by Ellen Parker
Basil steadied his breathing and estimated his chances of walking to his van undetected. Negative numbers. He pressed his back against the siding and listened to his heart rate level off.
Mona hummed a cheerful tune and adjusted the blinds on the window to his left. He glanced over and relaxed. She’d not see him with a casual look outside.
The footsteps caused him more concern. Who was the second man? He held his breath as the slider moved and a man walked across the deck.
“I’d forgotten what a nice view you have.”
“By now I should have the flower boxes out there. But I’ve been a little distracted.”
Basil watched through the narrow slits between the deck boards as the man braced both arms on the rail.
The man laughed before speaking and looking down. “Distracted? When did you become the master of understatement, Lincoln?”
Dray’s inside. Who’s outside? He molded against the wall without moving.
“Elegant speech fails me at the moment. There. All set. I told Mona I’d wear my red tie to complement her dress.”
“Chinese good luck?”
A second serving of cold sweat coated Basil’s neck. How much did the man see between the deck boards? A shadow? More? His tattoos itched under the imagined gaze of this stranger.
“Something like that. Are you ready?”
“In a minute. Go ahead. I’ll follow. Altoona Road, Chapel of the Pines. Right?”
“Yeah.” A dozen silent question marks followed the single word.
“Go. I’ve a couple of calls to make. I’ll lock up.”
Trusts this man to let him lock up. He suspected a trap with the address but held it in the front of his memory, just in case. In case of what? A church on Tuesday? Only time he came close to a chapel during the week was to check out a funeral. He waited as the sheen of sweat swelled and merged into rivulets, tracing an irregular path under his shirt. Would the man on the deck follow his bold words with actions? Would he force a confrontation? He could take him in a fair fight. He flexed his hands, confident they could even the score against anything—except a gun.
Basil moved only his gaze as the man above him paced, leaned against the rail, moved a deck chair, and sent text after text on a phone. Five minutes crawled past as he stood in the shade, pressed against the building, and sweat.
“Chapel of the Pines on Altoona Road.” The man spoke it like an invitation or clue in a scavenger hunt before he re-entered the house and closed the sliding door.
Chapter Eighteen
“I, Mary Monica, do take Lincoln Tyler Dray as my lawful husband, to honor, cherish, and respect as long as we both may live.” Mona worked a plain gold ring past Linc’s knuckle. She moved her gaze up over black suit, hesitated for an instant on his bright red tie, and hurried up to his face.
He’s smiling. She exhaled tension into the small chapel. The room was large enough to hold eighty if they sat close and friendly. Another glance at the ring of silver stars painted on a blue band high on the wall grounded her to time and place. Her grandmother would be astounded that not one statue or painted saint adorned the worship space. A plain wooden cross, polished to a gleam, stood as the center of attention. It fits this business transaction posing as a wedding.
Ben Cobb, pastor of Chapel of the Pines, stood in front of that cross now, holding a tiny book in one hand.
She exhaled and looked again at Linc. Perhaps her heart would calm now that her speaking part was over. A tremble swept up her arms as she inspected his face. Gray eyes, straight nose, and generous lips shaped into a small smile combined to kick her heart into a faster pace. She tested a smile and found it easier than expected.
“Having declared themselves before God and this company,” Ben Cobb raised his right arm and gestured over the entire attendance of five people, “I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss your bride, Linc.”
Promises. Anticipation mixed with memory, propelling her heart loud and fast. Mona sighed into Linc’s kiss. The first soft touch simmered for an instant, then burst into full heat. One quick sweep of his tongue across her welcoming mouth later, he eased back. She sealed her lips, savored the trace of salt and mint mouthwash left behind. They’re going to hear my heart. I expect it to explode.
“Later. More later.” Linc mouthed the words, keeping them private.
She drew back, settled a little, and smiled. She didn’t trust her voice. Feeling as light as helium, she clung to his hand before turning to face their witnesses.
Daryl, Lorraine, and Dr. Terrier clapped.
“Well done.”
“It’s official now.”
“Take the rest of the day off.” Dr. Terrier grasped the handles of his walker and struggled to stand.
“Come to lunch with us. Our treat,” Lorraine added.
“The papers,” Ben Cobb reminded them.
A moment later Mona stood at Linc’s elbow and watched him sign with a cheap, black stick pen. He started with a large loop in the “L,” moved quickly and echoed it with an equally oversize oval on the final “Y.” He offered the pen. “Next?”
She skimmed her palms down her skirt to dry them before accepting the ballpoint.
“Mary Monica Smith” in her small combination of printing and cursive looked insignificant beside his confident signature. “Penmanship’s not my thing.”
“I didn’t marry you for your handwriting.” He kept his voice pitched soft, between only the two of them.
She stifled a giggle before pushing the document to her right and handing the pen to Daryl. “The only talent I’ll claim is cooking.”
“Don’t underestimate yourself. You’re a good driving student. I’ll let you move up to the van this weekend.”
“Unless we are otherwise engaged.” Heat rushed up her neck at the double meaning in her words. She’d intended them to be a light reference to the legal tangle and uncertain future only lawyers and judges controlled. Would he take them as an opportunity to renegotiate the terms of this business arrangement disguised as a marriage?
Linc laughed before brushing her cheek with a thumb. “Careful. We may have to discuss our rules if you keep tempting me.”
“Eve with an apple?”
“I prefer to think she used a fig. After all, they needed the leaves soon after.”
Mona’s laugh escaped past her hand close to her mouth. Life with Linc invited her on an adventure. The days and weeks, even years if she dared to dream, might turn out confusing. But it would not be dull.
“Pardon me for a few.” Mona excused herself from the group ten minutes later after signatures and photos on two cameras plus a phone. She followed the pastor’s directions to the steps and found the basement ladies’ room.
A bride. She spread her hands above the sink and admired the plain gold wedding band. She blinked away a twinge of regret and blotted her face with a paper towel. Her mother would never see her as a bride. Never get acquainted with Linc, a man who managed to show her more kindness and decency in two weeks than all her previous boyfriends combined. Never see grandchildren. Where did that spring from? She checked her makeup and whispered to her mirror image. “Separate bedrooms.”
Mona pushed open the door, flicked the light off, and stepped forward.
“Not a word.” Basil’s voice grated against her ear while one hand pressed against her mouth and the other held an arm behind her back.
• • •
Linc reviewed signatures on the marriage certificate as he slipped the document with bold, Gothic script heading into a plain manila envelope. A memory of the wedding kiss intruded and he almost missed Ben’s comment.
“Congratulations and good luck, friend.”
“Thanks. I need the luck.” Linc noticed a shadow cross a window. “We’ll be gone in a few minutes and you can return to your normal life.”
“Summer’s slow for school bus drivers. Don’t have a scheduled run until Friday.”
“Sounds a long way from T
uesday.” Linc fingered the document envelope and allowed his mind to drift back to Mona. He wanted to give her more than a roof over her head and the occasional kiss for public display. One taste of her, like at the end of the ceremony, compared to resting one drop of ice cream on his tongue. He wanted an entire spoonful. A dish rounded full. An entire pint.
“Outrageous,” Lorraine commented with a laugh.
He glanced at the small group clustered around Dr. Terrier and his walker. Did they feel it? The air in the room teased the fine hair on his fingers. He gathered a breath and pushed back analogies with the electric air of thunderstorms. The weather was fine today, mild and partly cloudy. No mass of superheated air to fuel lightning this early afternoon.
Daryl gestured to him as he began to walk to the rear of the chapel.
We need to talk. You explain. I’ll listen. In their less than a minute of secluded conversation prior to the ceremony the older man had told him that he’d contacted all the proper authorities. Who did he mean? What had he seen out on the deck to prompt an announcement of their destination?
“Damn.” The male voice swept up the stairway clear as a thunderclap.
Daryl doubled his speed and Linc stayed at his heels down the steps.
Where is she? Linc looked around at the empty fellowship area, glanced at Daryl searching the kitchen, and touched the ladies’ restroom door before he saw motion outside the frosted windows facing the parking lot.
“This way.” Linc motioned to Daryl and sprinted for the exit.
Mona kicked and flailed against a stocky man forcing her toward a green van with the side door open.
“Let her go.” Linc ignored a movement to his left and hurried forward.
“Police. Stop.”
Linc halted and felt Daryl brush past as a uniformed officer from the Eau Claire County sheriff’s department ran into view. An instant later the deputy body slammed Mona’s would-be captor and separated them.
Daryl grabbed one arm of the assailant and propelled the man against the van’s door.
“Are you—?” Linc assisted Mona to her feet.
“I’m okay.”
“Sure?” He skimmed his hands across her shoulders and down her back while studying her face. “Is that—?”
“Basil Berg.” She forced the words out between irregular breaths.
Linc stared at the man he’d only seen from a distance at the airport. He stood still, hands behind his back, one cheek pressed against the van. Daryl peered into the open door and the police officer held tight to one wrist.
“Will you be pressing charges?”
“Yes,” Linc blurted before Mona opened her mouth. “Assault.”
“And stalking,” she added.
“Plus attempted kidnapping.” Daryl pointed to duct tape, rope, and a shopping bag of women’s clothing.
The officer pulled Basil away from the van and recited the Miranda rights as he propelled him toward the cruiser.
“Talk to me, Daryl.” Linc massaged Mona’s hand, unwilling to break the warm, confused sensation of her touch.
“I apologize for not making time for a more complete explanation. Mona needed to act naturally. I’d already spooked him a bit at the house.”
Mona gasped. “The house? Today?”
“While you were downstairs freshening up. Linc never leaves the rod out of the slider track, so I went out on the deck. Viewed his boots through the gaps.”
“Why not call the police then?” She clenched Linc’s hand painful hard.
Daryl tipped his head toward the officer talking on the patrol car radio. “It’s not illegal to be outside your house. So I told him where we were headed and hoped he’d be foolish enough to follow. I also texted a friend with the sheriff’s department and requested a surveillance unit.”
“Matt. We need to warn Matt. What if—”
“We’ll call. In a few minutes.” Linc started to guide Mona back inside the building just as Ben, Lorraine, and Dr. Terrier reached the bottom of the handicapped ramp. “You’re limping.”
Mona reached down and removed her right shoe. When she held it up, the three-inch heel hung by a thin piece of vinyl. “I spiked him. In the shin. I think. After I bit his finger.”
“Brave bride.” Linc leaned over and his lips brushed against her cheek. “Hey. May I?”
He didn’t wait for her verbal response. The instant she stilled he found her lips and pressed against them. She tasted sweeter, more fulfilling, than ice cream. Let me protect you. Let me love you.
• • •
Basil stretched out his legs and leaned back in the metal chair. The glass bubble around the surveillance camera shone bright in the corner of the room. Police liked their suspects nervous, so he’d strike a relaxed pose and ignore that turmoil in his stomach. He crossed his ankles and discarded the notion of a smile at the one-way glass. How long to find a lawyer in this burg?
What attracted him to the Smith girl? She was pretty in an exotic sort of way, no question. But he could have asked any of half a dozen of the girls that hung on the edges of the drug gang and found a willing companion. Kevin? Mona Smith would learn quickly how to soothe and care for his brother. Where the other girls would recoil at Kevin’s habits, or lack of them, he could imagine her reading to him or helping him use his walker to keep a little strength in his legs.
He’d suspected a trap. Every word he’d heard under the deck this morning pointed to it. And he’d walked right in. He glanced down at his restrained hands and gave a soft laugh. For the first time in a decade he’d crossed the threshold of a church. You were wrong, Mom. The roof didn’t collapse.
He turned his face toward the door as it creaked open.
“Mr. Berg? I’m Edwin Dolan, public defender.”
“Pardon me for not standing.” Basil rattled his handcuffs and their attachment to a ring set into the table edge. He scanned the young man in front of him. Mr. Dolan didn’t look old enough to shave, let alone be a law school graduate.
“Now, then.” The lawyer claimed a seat across the table and opened a slim folder. “It looks bad for an assault charge. We might be able to do something about this attempted kidnapping portion.”
“Kidnapping? Is that what the bitch claims?” Basil leaned forward. “You get the camera turned off?”
“Absolutely.”
He settled back in his uncomfortable chair. At least the man understood the basics. “What do they have for this kidnapping?”
“They searched your van, found a change of women’s clothes in her size, rope, duct tape, Mapquest printouts. Can you claim the clothes belong to someone else? A sister? Girlfriend?”
“Don’t have a sister.” Basil hooked his thumbs on the table edge. “I want to stay quiet. Make ‘refuse to answer’ my answer.”
“Okay. This is what I expect to happen.”
For several minutes Basil and Mr. Dolan talked about procedure. The police were certain to know about the charges in Minneapolis and the judge would deny bail. Extradition to Minnesota could go either way; did Basil have a preference?
During the conversation Basil gained a quiet respect for the young man sitting with his back to the viewing window and blocking most of his own facial expressions from any law enforcement personnel trying to break the lawyer-client privilege rules.
“Can we classify the girl and her friend as unreliable? I hear River County arrested them not long ago.”
“That would be a stretch.” Mr. Dolan checked his notes. “Another of the witnesses, Mr. Frieberg, is retired Secret Service and a licensed private investigator.”
“Damn. He set the trap.” Basil rested both forearms on the table and displayed his multi-star tattoo. “Refuse to answer. It’s the only reasonable way for me to go. You agreed?”
Mr. Dolan nodded and left the room.
Basil calculated a timeline during his wait. He’d take extradition. Request it, even. At least it would get him away from that private investigator. The more he pondered th
e man on the deck the more certain he became that he’d seen the man before. Crystal Springs? He needed to get among friends. By tomorrow he’d set in motion events that would make Mona Smith regret even the misdemeanor charges.
A few minutes later Basil inspected the two people following Mr. Dolan into the room. The plainclothes officer wasn’t a surprise. Every county employed a detective with varying amounts of experience, and he’d observed the uniformed officer that brought him in speaking to this man before they closed the door to the interview room.
He blinked back surprise at the woman. She wore a chocolate and tan uniform with badges of one of the Wisconsin counties and a no-nonsense expression. Female officers asked the worst questions and this one carried an air of competence on her shoulders.
Several minutes into the interrogation the woman, Sheriff Bergstrom, opened the serious questions. “Describe your acquaintance with Mona Smith.”
“Not much to tell.” Basil gestured to cut off Mr. Dolan’s objection. “She’s the pretty sister of a work associate. I’d like to know her better.”
“Do you threaten all your girlfriends?”
“I don’t have to answer that.”
“No, you don’t.” The detective turned to the next report in his folder. “Minneapolis faxed a preliminary report regarding a recent search of Ms. Smith’s apartment. Whose prints will they find on the boning knife?”
Basil tensed, dropped his hands below the table, and shifted his feet. What sort of stories had Matt’s sister spread? He’d meant the break-in as a warning and she’d taken it seriously enough to scamper away. Two, maybe three, lucky breaks were the only way he’d found her in Eau Claire under the protective eye of Mr. Boy Scout.
“My client doesn’t need to answer.” Mr. Dolan jotted a note.
“Mr. Berg.” The woman spoke in the sort of voice sons obeyed. “Please tell us about your visit to Crystal Springs, Wisconsin, ten days ago. It was a Saturday. Witnesses place you there in the afternoon. Just to refresh your memory.”
Basil let his silence stretch long, and signaled his lawyer to remain quiet.
