The Heart Has Reasons (63 page)

Unbidden
tears welled up to trickle down her cheeks.  “No.”

Jarvis
regarded her with raised brows, then turned to Chase.  “Over the past
month, Ms. Santos and I have spent a considerable amount of time together, but
this is the first time I’ve seen her cry.  You certainly seem to have a
profound effect on her.  But then, seeing as how you took such a risk in
coming here, it appears she has the same effect on you.”

“Larissa
has already explained my presence.”

“Ms.
Santos, please explain why you don’t want your abductor prosecuted.”

Painfully
aware of the roomful of scrutinizing eyes, she fumbled her inhaler from her purse
with trembling hands and sucked in a huge lungful.  Chase regarded her
with concern.  “Are you having an asthma attack?”

She
shook her head.  “My chest just feels a little tight.”  She turned to
Jarvis.  “The man who kidnapped me —
and I’m not talking about Chase
—
made a mistake, a horrendous mistake that he now deeply regrets.  Sparrow
conned him into doing it.”

“He
told you he regrets it?”

“He
did.”

“When
exactly did this conversation occur?”

She
hesitated before answering.  If her kidnapper had expressed his regret to
her in person, that would mean he’d still been with her
after
Sparrow’s
death, which would then reopen the question of
who
exactly had killed
him.

“He
called me,” she said finally.  “He was extremely apologetic for not having
believed me.  He swore that he would never have delivered me to Sparrow
had he known his true intentions.”

“And
you believed him?”

“He
was clearly consumed by guilt over what he’d done.”

“When
did he call you?”

It
would have to be while Chase was still in jail.  “A few days after I got
home, after the full story had hit the news.”

“As
I recall, you were terribly concerned that the bureau was holding an ‘
innocent
man
’ in jail.  Why didn’t you tell me the
‘real’
abductor had
called?  The resulting investigation might have led to O’Malley’s
exoneration.”

Why,
indeed? 
Unable to
come up with a plausible reason, she simply shrugged.

“And
because he
apologized
, you’re now willing to grant him absolution?”

“He
always treated me well.  I see no reason why he should spend the next
twenty-five years in prison for a stupid mistake, a mistake he deeply regrets.”

“He
may not have hurt you directly but, as a result of his actions, you were very
badly beaten.”

“And
I’d gladly take another beating to save another life.  You’re forgetting
that, had he not kidnapped me, Sparrow would still be alive.  How many
more women would he have killed before the police finally caught him? 
If
they caught him.”

Jarvis
regarded her for a moment, his dark eyes unreadable.  Then he shifted in
his chair, turning to Brendon seated at his right.  “Mr. Bishop, how long
have you and Ms. Santos been friends?”

Brendon
colored as all eyes turned to him.  “Two years.”

“So
you clearly know her well.  What are your feelings on this relationship?”

Brendon
fidgeted in his chair.  “I will admit that at first I had my doubts. 
But having met Chase, and seeing how happy Larissa is, I can’t help but think
they were meant to be together.”

“A
spiritual coupling of two souls?”

Brendon
regarded Jarvis in wide-eyed surprise.  “Yes.  Exactly.”

Jarvis
nodded, then turned back to Larissa and Chase.  “Years ago, before I
joined the Bureau, I was deployed to El Salvador to train Salvadoran
troops.”  Larissa clutched Chase’s hand tighter, confused by the sudden
change in subject and wondering exactly where Jarvis was going with this. 
“My men and I were with a group of Salvadorans soldiers in the jungle, tracking
a group of rebels.  The rebels ambushed us and, during the firefight, I
was seriously wounded by a young woman, who we subsequently captured.”

Jarvis
absently picked up a butter knife from the place setting before him. 
“Although I’d been in many previous skirmishes, I’d never before received more
than a scratch.  I was therefore outraged that a mere
girl
had
managed to shoot me, not once, but
twice
.  On the way back to our
base camp, I kept close guard over her, determined that she’d stand trial and
knowing full well that she’d be executed.”

His
large fingers twirled the gleaming silver utensil with a surprising dexterity
and, once again, some indefinable quality about the man reminded her of
Chase.  “I wasn’t the only one who’d been shot in the ambush, but
fortunately no one on our side was killed.  We were deep in the jungle
and, due to our numerous injuries, the trip back to our base of operations was
a long and arduous one, taking nearly a week.

“Despite
the fact that I was in considerable pain from my wounds, I conversed with the
young woman, wanting to understand what drove her to be a rebel.  She was
simply following her own deep, personal convictions and, the more we spoke, the
more I realized things are not always black or white.  There are many
shades of gray in between.  During these conversations, we grew to know
one another well and, despite my residual anger at her, we developed a grudging
respect and fondness for one another.  When some of the Salvadoran
soldiers attempted to rape her, I stood against them to protect her.”

When
Jarvis paused and gazed across the table at her and Chase, Brendon asked, “So
what happened to her when you all made it back?  Was she executed?”

Jarvis
shook his head.  “She escaped the night before we reached our base.”

Chase
stated flatly, “You set her free.”

“That
was the general consensus among the Salvadoran troops,” Jarvis admitted,
“although they were unable to prove it.”

He
absently regarded the utensil in his hand, then placed it on the table. 
“People make mistakes, sometimes huge mistakes.  Should they be punished
for them?  As I said before, things are not always black or white. 
Ms. Santos, I agree with you.  I too believe the man who kidnapped you did
so not from any malice of character but because he was misled by Brian Sparrow. 
Would justice be served by sending him to prison for the remainder of his
life?  I think not, no more than justice would have been served by that
young Salvadoran woman’s execution.”

“So,
what happened to her,” Larissa asked.  “Did you ever see her again?”

Jarvis
fixed his dark eyes on her and paused for dramatic effect.  “I eventually
managed to smuggle Encarnita out of El Salvador, and she and I have been
married for twenty-four years.  She is the love and the light of my
life.”  He shrugged.  “The heart has reasons that Reason knows
nothing of.”

Brendon
regarded him with something akin to awe.  “Agent Jarvis, you are a
romantic.”

“Guilty
as charged, I’m afraid.”  He gazed across the expanse of the table at
Chase.  “Mr. O’Malley, may I assume you have feelings for Ms. Santos?”

“I
love her more than life itself.”  Shock jolted through Larissa at hearing
him make such a statement to the FBI agent, but Jarvis appeared not at all
surprised.

“Then,
perhaps all this has happened for a reason.  In addition to you two
finding each other, Ms. Santos killed Brian Sparrow.”  He paused to cast a
meaningful glance at Chase.  “Or, at least,
someone
did.  And
as Ms. Santos pointed out, had Sparrow not been killed, who knows how many more
young women would have died.  So, without a doubt, something good has come
of all this.”

He
pulled a card from his breast pocket and placed it on the table before
Larissa.  “Ms. Santos, unless you can provide us with more details about
the man who abducted you, I’m afraid he’ll never be caught.  Kidnapping is
a capital offence, and therefore the case will always remain open.  For
lack of evidence, though, the investigation itself will be unofficially
shelved.  If you remember anything else about the man, please call me.”

“I
will.  And thank you, Agent Jarvis.”

When
she hesitated for a moment, he prompted, “Yes?”

“Well
… I just wanted to say that you and Agent Harris were wrong regarding” — she
lowered her voice to a mere whisper — “Stockholm syndrome.”

“I
know.  However, at the time it was a possibility that we had to take into
consideration.”

“And
if my kidnapper
had
killed Sparrow, he would
never
have asked me
to take the blame.  I would have insisted upon it myself.”

“Somehow
that doesn’t surprise me.”  Jarvis extended his hand across the table to
her.  “Ms. Santos, it was a pleasure seeing you again, and I hope you’ll
forgive me for disturbing your dinner.”

A
wash of relief brought a lump to her throat.  As she took his huge hand in
both of her own, tears welled up again to spill unchecked down her
cheeks.  “Thank you, Agent Jarvis.  I can’t even begin to express
what this means to me.  To
us
.  And I’m sorry I wasn’t able to
be more … forthcoming … during the investigation.”  She then surprised
herself by asking, “Will you stay and have dinner with us?”

“Thank
you, but I’m anxious to get home.  My wife and I have a movie to
watch.”  He gave her a wink, then stood.  Chase and Brendon got to
their feet as well.  Afraid that her legs would refuse to support her,
Larissa again stayed seated.

Jarvis
turned to Brendon and shook his hand.  “Mr. Bishop, it was a pleasure
meeting you.”

“Likewise.”

Jarvis
turned to Chase.  “I’ll be keeping an eye on you, Mr. O’Malley.  If
you force me to return to Charleston, the consequences won’t be pleasant.”

“I
understand, sir, but you need have no concerns.  From here on out, I
intend to walk the straight and narrow.”

“See
that you do.”  When Jarvis extended a hand, Chase took it in a firm
clasp.  “
De Oppresso Liber
, Mr. O’Malley.”  Snapping a smart
salute, he turned on his heel and strode from the restaurant.

Lowering
himself back into his chair, Chase muttered, “I’ll be a son-of-a-bitch.”

Larissa
dabbed her napkin at the corner of her eyes, trying to blot the tears before
her mascara ran.  “What was that he said?”

“
De
Oppresso Liber
, the Special Forces motto.  It’s Latin, meaning, ‘To
free the oppressed’.  Jarvis was Special Forces, too.  That’s why he
was in El Salvador.”

“Could
this be a trick?”

“No. 
He’s closing the investigation.”

As
another surge of relief spilled through her, her nervous, fidgety movements
escalated into uncontrollable shivers that shook her entire body.  Chase
scooted his chair closer to hers, circled an arm around her shoulders and
pulled her close.  “Everything’s going to be all right, Larissa,” he
whispered.  “Don’t cry.”

“I
can’t help it.  When I looked up and saw him standing there, I thought my
heart was going to stop.”

Slipping
his other hand behind her neck to pull her closer, he kissed her
forehead.  “I thought mine would, too.”

Their
waiter suddenly descended upon their table, to stand there gazing uncertainly
at them.  “Was that man really with the FBI?”  When Brendon nodded in
the affirmative, he asked, “What did he want.”

“It
was all a case of mistaken identity,” Brendon assured him.  “We
straightened it out.”

Larissa
turned her attention back to Chase, and whispered, “I’m okay, now.  Is it
really
over?”

“It
is.  You’re stuck with me now.”

He
held her for several minutes while she struggled to regain some semblance of
control over her emotions.  Finally, her shoulders eased and she slumped
back in her chair, blotting the last of the tears from her eyes.

When
the waiter reappeared to place a brandy before each of them, Brendon said, “I
thought we all could use a drink.”

“I
certainly can,” said Larissa.  The flood of adrenaline still surging
through her veins had her feeling jittery and shaky.  She gulped half the
brandy, which immediately sent small curling tendrils of heat flowing through
her.

When
Chase made no move to touch his, Brendon said, “You don’t drink?”

“Alcohol
slows the reflexes.  I prefer to stay on top of my game.”

Larissa
could plainly see the strain on his face.  “Chase, are you sure you won’t
have just one, to take the edge off?”

“I’ll
go for a run when we get home.”

She
divided Chase’s drink between her and Brendon’s glasses, and they each
pretended to study their menus while she and Brendon sipped their brandy. 
An overwhelming sense of unreality overcame her, making her feel vaguely
disconnected, as if she were merely acting a part.

Finally,
the brandy began to take hold, opening a comforting blossom of warmth in her
core and thawing her frigid extremities.  The future, which a short while
ago had contracted into a light-devouring black hole, began opening out again
into all its wondrous possibilities.