Mourning Dove (36 page)

“Yes, ma’am.”

Matthew waited for a
break in the chatter from Ron’s neighbor, and asked Sara if he could get her
anything for her headache. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Cass shake her
head, “I offered her a sedative on the way to the cemetery and she won’t take
it.”

“I'm right here, Matthew,
don’t talk about me like I’m not.”

“How about a couple
Tylenol?” he asked.

She closed her eyes and
nodded.

From his pocket, he
pulled out a small travel bottle; Pierce grabbed a wine glass from a nearby
waiter offering it to wash down the pills. “Thank you, gentlemen, now if you’ll
excuse me, I need to powder my nose.”

“Sara, I’ll come with
you.”

“Cass, I’d like to leave
the hotel shortly. Do you think Jordie would mind driving me home?”

“I’ll leave with you.
It’s been a draining couple of days.”

Sara stood to leave then
stopped. In the doorway a gray haired woman in black had just entered the room.
Robert Starr asked, “Who is she, Sara?”

“Ruth Obermeyer,”
Jonathan said.

“My neighbor,” she said
at the same time. “We buried
her
husband last week.”

Matthew looked at the
older woman’s face and saw something familiar in her eyes.

***

“Sara,” Ruth said. “I am
so truly sorry for your loss.” When she grasped Sara’s hands she slipped a
folded piece of paper against Sara’s right palm. In moments, Ruth turned her
attention to Jonathon and Sara slipped out to the nearest restroom.

In an empty stall, she
opened the note and read:
Do not trust these men. They will stop at nothing
to acquire what you have.

Which men? Damn it, the
room was full of them. Obviously Ruth was friends with Jonathon. Could it be
Robert then? Certainly she couldn’t mean Matthew. Someone else entered the
ladies room and she flushed the unused toilet.

“Sara, are you in here?”

“I’m here, Cass.” She
tucked the note into her pocket, walked out of the stall. Cass stood in front
of the door with a stone cold look on her face.

“I’ve talked to Jordie;
he’s gone for the car. Your in-laws have been absolutely horrible to you. Do
you want me to let them know we’re leaving? Or do you just want to leave?”

For a moment Sara closed
her eyes and wished for this week to be over. “No, I’ll tell them.  They’ll be
gone in the morning. They were shocked at the reading of the will yesterday
when they found out Ron left his share of the company to Allen and me equally.
The house and property he left to the town of Greenland; the funds in his
personal investments are mine by right of survivorship.”

“He probably hadn’t
changed his will in awhile.”

“Cass, he rewrote his
will after I left for Chicago. The old will included Carl, not Allen. What got
his parents riled was that he still included me. They need someone to lash out
at and I’m the likely target. They’re quiet people generally and like to keep a
low profile. They were totally embarrassed by the official cause of death when
we lost Carl. They closed up like a steel vault being clanged shut, wouldn’t talk
to either Ron or me about it.

“Ron needed closure and I
was in denial, but Howard and Lydia,” Sara shrugged her shoulders, “they turned
away from both of us. They acted like none of us existed anymore. Now, well
this just compounds the problem.”

“As you said, they’ll be
gone tomorrow. What time’s their flight?”

“Ten fifteen out of Manchester. They’ve already informed me they will not need my assistance in getting to the
airport. So you see, now is when I have to say goodbye.”

“What about the others?
They’ve all done a lot to smooth out the wrinkles today.”

“You all have. I promised
not to say thank you again, but you know you have my love.” Cass teared up.
“Please don’t do that or the dam is going to break, again.”

“I’m sorry, give me a
moment,” her best friend whispered back.

“After I thank Robert and
Elaina and make my farewells to Ron’s parents, I’ll make a general announcement
thanking everyone for coming.”

“I’ll get our coats and
meet you at the front entrance of the hotel.”

“Give me five minutes,
Cass.” Sara watched her best friend leave the rest room and stalled her own
exit running hot water over her cold hands.

When she walked out into
the hallway Jonathon was waiting.

“How’re you doing?”

“If one more person asks
me that, I swear I’m going to scream so loud the harbor patrol is going to
think there’s an air raid.”

“Maybe you should go. The
crowd will dissipate when you do.”

“That’s my plan.”

“Sara, there’s something
else, the reason Ron died. I’ve listened to the authorities: local, state and
federal. I think Ron was snooping into something dangerous. I’ve been told it
was something your son was into. I’ve talked to some people in Washington; it has something to do with Matthew Farrell. Everywhere he’s been lately people
have turned up dead. I don’t want to lose you.”

“Wait a minute, Jonathon,
I don’t like where this conversation is going.”

“Please, Sara. Hear me
out. I’ve talked it over with Robert and he agrees with me. We don’t think it’s
safe for you to be around Matthew Farrell right now. If you need anything or
have anything you find is over your head, please come to
me
.”

She stared up at him.
There was nothing she could say to rebut his doubt in regards to Matthew. Death
had followed behind his every move.

“Robert feels this way,
too?”

“We’ve talked extensively
about this. We’re asking you to stay away from Mr. Farrell at least until the
news media has a chance to find another target. Consider the reputation of the
company and your own as an executive. As your boss, and your friend, I’m here
for you.”

He reached out and ran
his hands down the sides of her arms. She nodded in agreement as he leaned
forward and placed a simple kiss on her cheek.

Back in the function
room, Sara looked across to Matthew. He was listening to something Allen was
saying. He looked up just then and they stared like two who were strangers once
again.

“It’s time to say
goodbye, Sara,” Robert whispered.

She met Elaina half way
across the room and embraced a woman with kindness in her heart. Then she
turned to the cold grief of two people she had once called family.

“Where is she, Mrs.
O’Brien?” Jonathon Pierce stood on Cass’s front step with his hands in the
pockets of his sheepskin jacket. He looked at the woman with fly-away hair, a
tie-dyed shirt, and blue jeans. She was as different from Sara as cow pies were
to whipped cream.

“Mr. Pierce, to what do I
owe the honor of this visit?”

“Sara hasn’t answered any
of her various phones and she’s not answering her doorbell.  I’m worried. She
seemed disoriented yesterday after the funeral. She’s not here, is she?”

“She may have gone for a
walk.”

“Her cell?” he asked.

“Could be off or she
could have left it at home.”

“Do you have a key to her
place?”

She raised her brow in
challenge and he held his hands out in a plea for help.  “If she’s sleeping we
can just back out; but if she’s done something foolish we shouldn’t be wasting
time.”

“All right, come in for a
minute while I get my shoes and the key to her place. She’s going to be really
pissed if she’s sleeping and finds I let anyone in.”

She slid into a pair of
ducks, totally out of character to the rest of her outfit. On a side table she
pulled the head off a ceramic Buddha and lifted out a set of keys. At Sara’s
door, she rang the bell before she inserted the key. He looked down at his
watch; time was slipping away.

“Sara, are you home,
hon?” Cass asked and shrugged at the silence. An orange, black and white cat
leaped off a carpeted post by the sliding door in the back of the room. She
reached down and lifted the cat into her arms. Jonathon moved her aside and
walked down the hall to a bedroom. The bed was made. Like her office, not a
thing out of place. Across the hall was a room with a desk. A computer was off;
but a red light was flashing on an answering machine. He’d check messages, but
her flamboyant friend was right behind him, petting the purring fur ball in her
arms.

He turned back down the
hall and the cat hissed when he passed by.  “What’s her name?” he asked to fill
the silence.

“
His
name is
Leonardo.”

Jonathon peeked into the
bathroom on the way back to the front room. In the kitchen area he asked, “Door
to the garage?” pointing to the side door.

“She’s obviously not
here, Mr. Pierce. I think we should go.”

He opened the side door
to an empty garage, turned around and added, “Please, my name is Jonathon.
Where do you think she’s gone?”

“I’m not her keeper.” She
put the cat down after he shut the side door. When he turned back he gripped
her upper arms.

“You’re hurting me, Mr.
Pierce. Let go.”

“I'm sorry.” He released
her. “I’m just plain worried about her. She’s lost so much. I don’t know how
long she can…” He paced back to the kitchen area then turned to her. Mounted on
the wall behind an oak table and chairs was a painting of three young people at
the beach, a jungle of green surrounding them.

“Did your son, Jordan,
paint this?”

She smiled. “He calls it Friends
.
”

“Where is this?” he
pointed to the forest background.

“Well, a number of the
places, wherever we went with the boys when they were young.”

He stepped closer and
pointed to a pirate’s flag on top of a concrete monument. “Where is this?” he
asked.

“Odiorne Point. We spent
hot summer days letting the boys search for pirate treasure. The paths were
always cool, close to the ocean, and shaded with foliage.”

“That’s where they found
her son,” he whispered.

“I think we should go.
I’m sure she’ll be okay. She just needs some time.”

“Do you think she might
have gone there?”

“Maybe.”

“What’s the quickest way
to get there?”

“Take I-95 and the first
exit in Portsmouth, head for the beach, Route 1-A.”

He left her standing in
the doorway.

“If you find her, make
her call me!” she shouted as he shut his door and pulled out of the driveway.

***

Leaning against the
granite boulder where Carl breathed his last, the sun on her face, not the fog
of his last night, Sara wondered whose trust was broken. Whose deception would
be her undoing?  She tossed a stone into the inlet and watched ripples cascade
out from impact. It was high tide. The water was close.  She tossed in another
and observed the interaction of overlapping ripples.

Not too long ago, she had
thought her world had finally righted itself. She’d made her peace with Carl’s
death. If not still with her in body, she learned he was with her in spirit.
What an understatement that was. She’d made her peace with Ron, too. They’d
come to an amicable separation and she believed a new friendship had been
forged between them. Matthew came into her life with joy and laughter, intrigue
and adventure, and passion. She’d believed in him. He asked for total trust and
she gave it. Jonathon was right about one thing though; ever since Matthew came
into her life, death had been a constant. Grief was overwhelming when so many
were gone. Gran told of horrendous atrocities during the Holocaust. By
comparison Sara’s losses were not as great. It did not ease her pain knowing
that.

She heard a car pull into
the parking lot behind her. Crouched down as she was she knew whoever it was he
couldn’t see her. A door opened and closed. Footsteps crunched on the stone
surface of the lot. Maybe whoever it was would cross the footbridge to the
trails and leave her in peace.

“Sara, where are you?”

It was Jonathon. Standing
up, she turned toward him with the water behind her and the waist-high boulder
in front. He scanned the lot and the footbridge beyond. Then his glance settled
on her. They stared at each other in a long moment of silence. Then he smiled.

“I’ve been worried about
you, Sara. What are you doing here?”

“How did you know I
was
here?”

“Cass is worried about
you, too. I asked her to let me into your place when I couldn’t reach you by
phone.” He glanced down the footbridge again then walked toward her. “I thought
you might be ill again. I thought you might do something foolish in your
grief.”

“I’m physically well,
Jonathon. The flu, or should I say the poison, did not do its job.”

“What poison? Sara,
you’re talking crazy.”

“Am I? Why did you really
come here?”

“I don’t know what you’re
talking about. I told you I would look out for you. That’s why I’ve come.”

“I wasn’t sure if it was
you, Matthew, or Robert. I knew if I waited long enough one of you would tip
your hand.”

“Sara, you’re talking
nuts here. I’ve come to bring you home.” He stepped closer.

“I don’t think so. You
came for something else. Little boys never seem to grow up. You’re looking for
the treasure aren’t you? What if I tell you it’s in the trunk of my car? What
would you do then? Would you leave me in peace? Of course you wouldn’t. I know
too much.”

“Sara, listen to your
self.” He glanced back at her car. He’d tipped his hand now.

“Hard decision isn’t it?
Do you trust me to believe the prize you seek is in my trunk? Or do you
eliminate me first, and then look?”

“What nonsense has
Farrell fed you? He’s a rogue agent; he sells to the highest bidder. I know
him, I worked with him. If you help me, we can catch him and turn him in. But
we need evidence and we’re running out of time. If he gave you something to
hold onto, give it to me. I’ll keep you safe.”

“There’s just one thing I
want to know, Jonathon. Who
do
you really work for?”

“Starr Shine
Communications, same as you. What’s in your trunk, Sara?”

“The evidence Carl found.
The prize he was killed for. The tasteless version of the poison you were going
to sell out your country for, not the stuff Jimmy Pike fed me.”

He looked at his watch
and began to sweat. It was the middle of November, but she could see moisture
beading across his forehead.

“Sara, toss me your car
keys.”

“It’s unlocked.”

“You’re not going to try
to stop me?”

“I don’t need to. All I
have to do is pull the trigger.”

When he turned back to
her, he saw the gun in her hand. He slowly pulled one from his pocket.

“Careful boss, you might
kill me before you get your prize. Then where would you be?”

“What are you playing at
here? These are grown up games, Sara. You can’t win this time.”

“Neither can you. Why
don’t you ask what else is in the trunk?”

They both turned at the
sound of footsteps on the bridge.

***

Matthew saw the danger
even if Sara didn’t. Jonathon was a crack shot. “Sara, I’ve got him,” he said.

“Well, well, Matthew
Farrell, double agent, finally popped out of your hidey hole.” Pierce smirked
and changed his aim to cover the larger threat. “Your girl friend here says the
prize is tucked in her trunk, I suppose in a nest of explosives. Is she telling
the truth?”

“Sara never lies. It’s
one of her most endearing qualities.”

Another footstep from
beyond the gatehouse in the parking lot caused the three of them to spin toward
the sound.

“Well if it isn’t our
friend from Israel, raised from the dead,” Matthew called out. “Come join us,
Oscar.”

“Do you have it, Mrs.
Stafford?” the elderly gentleman asked. He aimed his gun at Jonathon Pierce.

“I have it.”

“Let’s not get stupid
here, friends.” Jonathon glanced at his watch. “The real enemy has bigger bombs
than what you can explode in your trunk, Sara. A nuke is armed and ready to
obliterate Florida on the rocket lift off tomorrow. Eighteen hours later, if we
still haven’t turned over what I hope Sara’s got tucked in her trunk, a similar
package will detonate in Sydney.”

“Well, isn’t that a
shame,” Oscar Obermeyer swung his gun toward the trunk of the green Sebring and
fired his weapon. The car explosion hurled pieces of metal in a random cascade
of destruction.

When Pierce fired his
weapon, Mathew returned fire and heard the echo of a fourth shot as he
collapsed on the deck of the footbridge. “Sara!” he shouted but he was not sure
anyone heard his voice.

From a deafening fog he
saw Oscar lean over him. “You all right, Mr. Farrell?”

“Where’s Sara?” Matthew
asked.

The Israeli pulled his
hat and beard off and Ruth Obermeyer’s gray hair spilled out.

“She’s down, but still
breathing. I’ve called 911.”

“What about Pierce?”

“He’s got a hole where
his heart used to be. You only nicked him. Your girl friend’s aim was dead on.”

“She was probably aiming
for his knees. She’s not very good with a gun.”

Ruth helped him up and
over to where Sara was on her knees leaning up against a granite boulder.

“I told her to duck, damn
it!”

“I don’t think she took a
bullet.  It’s some of the debris from the car,” Ruth said.

“Sara, love, wake up.” He
slid down beside her and pulled her onto his lap. Dear God, there was blood all
over her.

“Look, my friend; I can
hear the sirens in the distance. There are too many questions I can’t answer. I
have to go.”

“You’re sure he’s gone?”

The Israeli nodded and
disappeared down the footpath just before the first fire truck pulled into the
parking lot.

***

The explosion rocked the
ground. A thousand knives cut into Sara’s body. Her legs collapsed. Jonathon
was still on his feet when she lifted her arm and fired the gun. White fog
filled the space around her. “Ron? Carl? What are you doing here?” They knelt
beside her. In the parking lot, people were shouting and hoses were spraying
what was left of her car. Ron squeezed her hand. No, it wasn’t Ron.

You did well, Mom. You
did well.
Carl faded into the fog when she heard Ron’s voice.
I
love
you, Sara. You’re going to be okay.

“Stand back,” another
voice spoke. “What’s her name?”

“Sara, her name is Sara.”

“Are you her husband?”

“I want to be.”

“Ready to lift, on
three.”