New Growth (Spook Hills Trilogy Book 2) (21 page)

“My dad always acted kindly towards me, but with his
dedication to his business empire, he traveled most of the time.”

“He kept too busy building his businesses and his wealth to
be around anywhere long.
 
Sitting here in
this restaurant sipping this wine and talking with you takes me back to
memories of dining with your father, listening to his voice and losing myself
in those bedroom eyes of his,” Alisha said.

She put her hand over Mathew’s where it rested on the
table.
 
“You have those eyes too.”

She voiced those words in a seductive manner and inched her
hand back, tracing her fingers down his in an unmotherly way, surprising and
repulsing him.
 
His dad’s attorney words
came back to him, ‘The woman is like an addictive drug and about as
poisonous.’
 
He pulled his hand back into
his lap, determined to stay out of range of her caresses.
 

Alisha smiled and began nibbling her seafood, savoring each
bite as she talked more about his father.
 
Near the end of the
meal,
she
said, “I was his
amour
passionn
é
.
 
Laurel came out a weak second.
 
Even so, he did not express his love
well.
 
He left me so little.
 
Despite having many things cheaper out here, I
can’t live on what I receive.
 
You must
use part of the fortune he left you to help me regain the level of comfort he
wanted for me.”

Although forewarned, the naked greed in Alisha’s request
astounded him.
 
Mathew decided to
confront the issue.
 
“Alisha, I
understand a generous trust fund from my father pays you an income to allow you
to live comfortably.
 
You gave me
life
and my
father
paid you for the effort with a generosity that will continue until you
die.”
 

“Why is my son tight-fisted with money he never earned?”
Alisha asked.
 
“While I hate to
acknowledge it, I am no longer young.
 
You need to help me live as your father wanted.”

“I attempt to be fair-minded,” Mathew said.
 
“What I will do is review your financial
situation with the trust administrator.
 
I came here to meet you, to understand what you are like and to try to
forge
a belated
mother and son bond.
 
Having done that, I don’t see a relationship
working if what you want is money.”

Alisha focused on her high-end salad, cornering every bit of
shiny black caviar.
 
She smiled a little
to herself and spoke.
 
“Are you sure you
want your wine-country friends to learn about your
sinful
father and mother?”

Alisha’s knowledge of the vineyard caught him
off-guard.
 
He stared at her in surprise.

“Oh yes, I know a good deal about
you,
and I could enlighten your friends as well as any future bride
about your not so
pristine
background,”
Alisha said with a taunting tone.
 
“Did
you know your father did not die of cancer?
 
He contracted HIV although he hid that information.
 
I am a carrier.
 
You see I favor teenage
boys,
and here they are easy to acquire.”

A wave of revulsion slithered over Mathew.
 
This conversation reminded him of those
horrible criminals they had arrested last year for trafficking in children and
selling them into lives of prostitution.
 
After two encounters with those felons, he had considered their
incarceration too small a penalty for the destruction of adolescents they
caused.
 
And now he found his mother
participated in the ruin of other young lives.
 

“My friends accept me for the man I am,” Mathew said,
drawing on his discipline developed
by
the FBI to keep his emotions out of his voice.
 
“Even if your poison shocks them, they will not turn from me.”

“What about your young woman with the long dark hair?
 
And how about your business partner?
 
The big agent – the one called the Boy
Scout.
 
Do you think he will stay your
friend when he is made aware of where you came from?”

“He knows.
 
So does
his wife,” Mathew said.

“I will tackle the dark-haired beauty.
 
I can give
her
hints about you and your heritage to turn
her
from you, unless -”

Mathew’s decided to cut off her bid at extortion by saying,
“I will not pay you a cent for your silence.
 
I try to be a man of character and others will believe in me.”

Alisha smiled a cold, dark smile that smacked of
malice.
 
“Put your FBI
ideals
away and be realistic.
 
This is the way life goes.
 
I need something, I get it.
 
One way or another, you will support me.”

Mathew looked at the woman in disbelief.
 
She made his skin go goose-pimply with
revulsion.
 
How could she be his
birth-mother?
 
Now that he was in her
presence, he better understood the warnings his adoptive mother and his
father’s attorney gave him.
 
He wanted
only to be away from this woman, fearful that she would taint his life.
 

He rose from the table, signaled for the bill and signed the
tab, his mind working fast.
 
He would
rush to the airport, not only to be away from this
woman
but also to head off any attacks on his reputation.
 
Hastening out
of the dining room, Mathew ran up to his room, changed his return flight,
hastily packed and headed out in a taxi.
 
He called Steve on the way to his flight to ask him to talk with Rick
and Sassy since the disclosure should be in person.
 
Mathew
planned to go to Arizona to track Callie down to forewarn her.
 
While Alisha was toxic, he rebuffed the idea
of feeling ashamed of his parentage.
 

Whatever
worthiness
Mathew possessed came from Laurel.
 
He
had always admired her devotion to her
causes, even though she acted cold with him.
 
He understood now that her despair over not having her own children and
her jealousy of Alisha had driven her to
seal
more caring emotions deep inside.
 
Yet in
her way, she had influenced him for the better, making him thankful she had
stood in as his mother.
 
How had one
family produced two sisters with such duality in their natures?

Once in Arizona, Mathew found the car and driver that
Steve arranged to take him up to Sedona to talk with Callie.
 
All he remembered about the ride to Sedona
was dozing in the car in an almost catatonic state.
 
He
called Callie as he came into town to find out where to meet her for
lunch.
 
Sensing he appeared revolting
with his two-day stubble and messy hair, he flew into the restaurant restroom
to make himself more presentable.
 

Callie sat at a table sipping tea, waving when he entered
the cafe.
 
He ordered
milk
with ice when he sat down.
 

“Poor thing, you must be exhausted,” she said, her face full
of concern and sympathy.

“Been on planes for days.
 
I need to talk with you to head off an issue.”

“So Steve said when he called.”

Mathew struggled to regain coherency despite his tired brain
and stretched emotions.

“Mathew, tell me,” Callie said.
 
“Don’t struggle to be eloquent.”

He nodded and said, “I told
you
that my parents
each traveled most of the
time,
and
I
stayed with a
nanny or housekeeper until I was sent off to boarding school.”
 

“Yes.”

He took a deep breath.
 
“Right before harvest, my mother came through Portland and invited me
for lunch.
 
She told me I am not her
son.
 
I am the son of her sister and my
father.
 
They began an affair which
turned out to last a
lifetime,
and I am
the result of the start of the liaison.”

Callie regarded him with compassion and reached over to take
his hand.
 
Mathew continued to relate his
story describing his discussion with his birth mother.
 
At the
end
he said, “The whole scene with that woman disgusted me.”

“
Oh
Mathew! Are you
okay?”

“What she told
me
explained a good deal about why the woman I thought was my mother, Laurel,
acted so cold to me.”

“Mathew, you are a treasure of a man,” Callie said, her eyes
glowing with sincerity.
 
“You put your
life on the line to rescue Susannah.
 
You
served the United States in the FBI.
 
You
are thoughtful, brave and kind.
 
You have
been so caring and sincere with
my family and me
.”

 
“She
hired a detective, found out about you and indicated she will give you and my
other friends reservations about my character if I do not give her money.
 
Classic blackmail, right?
 
I told her my
friends
to
believe in me, but . . .”
 

“You wanted me to learn about it from you and not be shocked
by what this new mother might say.”

Mathew nodded, unable to shake the pessimism in his heart.

“You are the
blameless
one in all this,” Callie said.

“Being with the woman made me feel tainted.
 
I am
her
natural son.”

“You chose to be different.
 
Someone good.
 
Tell
her
to call me.
 
I will defend you,” Callie said, gripping his hand in both of hers.

Callie’s firm resolution made him realize the growing
strength of her convictions about him.
 
After giving their orders to the waitress, Callie smiled at him in a way
that suggested she was surer of herself.
 

“While
we’re opening up with
each other, you know I came here to reconcile myself to my years with John
Henry, right?”

“Yes.”

“Back when I got involved with him, I remained in many ways
a naïve and innocent young woman.
 
John
Henry was my first man.
 
My only
one.
 
I dated in
college,
but nothing became
a
regular
relationship.
 
During our
marriage, his desires seemed inappropriate, even perverted.
 
I wanted to please
him,
so I went along until I reached my limits.
 
He craved what I considered warped.
  
I found no lovemaking, not after he seduced
me and I became pregnant."

Mathew
reached over to
take both her hands in his, warmed by her faith in him by opening up about her
years with her husband.
 
Hearing about
Callie’s distresses made his concerns with Alisha grow smaller.
 
John Henry was not only self-centered,
but his behavior to Callie sounded
depraved.

"I understand about the soiled part," Callie
continued.
 
"I am here to find a
form of purification.
 
Steve recommended
reaching back to find the good and the light inside myself.
 
I need to find whatever spark I may still
possess.”

“Steve’s life used to be so empty,” Mathew said.
 
“I doubt he verged into perversion, although
he did years of what he called ‘wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am’ encounters.”

Callie laughed at that way of phrasing Steve’s habit of picking
up women in hotel bars.
 
“Yes, he told me
about the bad times and his struggles.
 
He thought a spiritual cleansing might help me address my troubles.
 
You are not the only one with a problem
person in your life.
 
Mine is the
oppressive John Henry and yours this wacky birth mother.
 
What’s this woman’s name?”

“Alisha.
 
Turner is
her last name.
 
She had many lovers, but
no husband.”

Callie sat moving the salt and pepper shakers around in
front of her.
 
“We should tell Rick and
Sassy.”

“Steve went over to talk with them.
 
I didn’t want it to wait until I got home, in
case Alisha calls them.
 
I wanted to tell
you by seeing you.”

“Do you mind if I talk to my attorney?”

“Why?” Mathew asked, surprised at the question.

“I want him prepared in case Alisha hooks up with John
Henry.
 
He could turn nastier than usual
and use this situation in a custody battle over Susannah.”
 

Callie blushed a little.
 
What she said would only matter if they became serious about each
other.
 
The thought made him both sad and
happy.
 

“Yes, go ahead,” he said.
 
“Tell him to call me or my dad’s attorney for particulars.
 
I'll text you his name and number."

Their food came.
 
Mathew had chosen as
plain
a salad
as he noticed on the menu and a bowl of chicken noodle soup.
 
He wanted to stay with Callie as long as
possible but still get back to his flight later that
afternoon
and allow Callie to return to her healing center.

Before they parted, he took her face in his hands and kissed
her the way she kissed him out in the vineyard, then he pulled back to gaze
into her
trusting
eyes.
 
Even if time and personal torments impeded
their progress, they
would
find their way
to each other, just as Steve and Ivy had reached out, grasped hands and become
inseparable.
 

That evening Mathew plodded along like a walking zombie
as he went up the Jetway to the Portland airport, coming in on a flight from
Phoenix.
 
As he walked along now, he
replayed their conversation in his mind.
 
Thoughts of Callie made him smile.
  
Mathew
paused in the
airport hallway, leaning against the wall and savoring the memory of the way
Callie’s dark eyes shone with the intensity of her belief in him.
 
His thoughts drifted again to their
conversation,
and he slowly walked on.
 

He arrived at the point in the hallway where it went a
little uphill back to security.
 
A man
walking past heading out to the gates gave him a piercing sideways glance out
of remarkable bright blue eyes and moved on.
 
Mathew did a quick head swivel, recalling the man from somewhere, but he
needed a second view of him.
 
The man
walked out of sight.
 
A crowd of people
came down, making their way to the gates.
 

Mathew reversed his direction and walked back to search, his
progress slowed by the other travelers.
 
His agent’s mind froze in his memory the image of a man handsome as a
sleek movie star, a little under six feet, slender and well-dressed.
 
He checked out
some
waiting
areas and ducked
into the men’s room.
 
The man seemed to
have
disapparated
like a Harry
Potter-style wizard.
 

Mathew turned to trudge back up the hallway to where Ivy and
Steve waited to scrape up his weary self and take him home.
 
He planned to chow down whatever dinner was
placed in front of him, take a shower, pour a glass of brandy and crawl into
bed.
 
Even thinking must wait until
tomorrow.

Mathew slept until noon.
 
He vaguely heard Ivy and Steve poke their heads in the room a couple of
times, placing chilled water by his bed and taking away the untouched brandy,
but he slept on.
 
Now
he
edged his way upright against the
headboard.
 
While
he
might be a bit woozy, his body had recovered somewhat.
 
Mathew took a long swill of water, showered,
dressed in a set of old sweats and shuffled down to where his pseudo-parents
worked at their desks.

“Better?” Ivy asked as he sauntered in.

“Almost human again,” he replied.
 
“How was the old Fuentes place in Santa
Fe?”
 

“Found a few case artifacts.
 
We’ll tell you over lunch.
 
Might
prove interesting,” Steve said.

Mathew squinted at Ivy’s screen and said.
 
“
H
e’s
the guy at the airport last night.”

“You mean Julio?” Steve asked in surprise.

Mathew told them about his passing glimpse and how the man
eluded him when he backtracked to find him.

“You sure you weren’t hallucinating? You had as much starch
left in
you as
a sodden old pair of
boots,” said Ivy.

“Julio was the man walking the other way.
 
He surreptitiously checked me out.
 
Then he disappeared.”

“Julio might sneak into a ladies room,” Ivy said.

“If it was Julio, he was out here for a reason,” Steve
said.
 
“Scouting us out.
 
We need to step up our monitoring.
 
Time
we
got 24-hour agent protection here too.
 
I’ll make the request now while you two go upstairs and set the
table.
 
Should I ask Lenny in?”

“Parsnip soup with grilled cheddar and bacon sandwiches –
easy for me to scale up for more people.
 
An apple tart for dessert,” Ivy said.
 
“Ask Fred and Federico as well.
 
They may as well be briefed at the same time.”

Back upstairs over lunch Lenny listened to the latest update
from Steve and said, “Yesterday, huh?
 
This stocky guy walked down the road and stopped to talk to me for a
couple of minutes, wanted to know about trails in the area.
 
He carried a hiking stick and wore well-used
leather hiking shoes.
 
While he might be
spying
for
someone, he gave the impression
of being out for exercise.”

“What else can you tell us about him?
 
Hair color, eyes?
 
Facial features?” Steve asked in his usual
direct style.

“Sunglasses and a
wide-brimmed
felt hat.
 
Dark hair.”

“Anything else?”

Federico went to speak, hesitated and then said.
 
“Night before last about eight-thirty, up at
tree house
with night goggles.”

He stopped bringing both hands up to his eyes as if using
night
binoculars.
 
“Movement in the vines behind the
house
.
 
C
oyote
run out.
 
Maybe he was alone.”

Federico shrugged his skepticism.

Steve frowned and said, “Or someone flushed him out.”

“Si.
 
Motion too high
for a coyote, more like a person in a . . .” he turned to Fred and spoke a few
words in Spanish.

“Like someone in a half crouch,” Fred commented.

“And the coyote came out like he was scared,” said
Federico.
 
“Run fast.
 
Stop.
 
Look back.”

“Someone could be stalking us,” Steve said.
 
“From now on, we go out in pairs.
 
Each of us always armed.
 
Lenny and Federico, you are doing excellent
work.
 
Likely
the
danger level is going up.
 
I will get FBI
coverage here 24/7, starting this afternoon.
 
Both of you will be scheduled for the day shift, going out in tandem or
with Fred.
 
Be cautious.
 
You see anything, you ring my cell right
away.”