Thirty-six hours later, Bess was in Florida. Even though it was morning, the summer air was hot and muggy. She began to sweat seconds after she stepped out of the air-conditioned airport on her way to the rental car. As she threw her overnight bag into the back, she surveyed her surroundings, looking for something out of place, a person watching her. But everything seemed normal.
Getting into the driver’s seat, she started the car and let the air conditioner run, eventually cooling the car off as she looked at the map she had just bought.
Looking about her surroundings one more time, she didn’t see anything out of place. Returning to her map, she studied the highways and roads to Fort Meade.
She was to meet Sheila at the Old Fort Meade School House Museum, on the corner of Tecumseh Avenue and Main Street, an hour before closing. They had agreed that Bess would stay there for twenty minutes or so, while Sheila watched from a distance. Once she felt sure Bess hadn’t been followed, she’d contact her.
Entering the address into the GPS on the dashboard, the nurse from Brandon Creek pulled out of the parking lot, drove through the security gates and out onto the roads of Florida. She had begun her long, overland journey to a small town in the middle of the state and her dear friend.
As she drove, Bess watched the traffic behind her intently. After about an hour on the road, she realized a black sedan had been with her for quite a while. Watching it with growing concern, mile after mile, she wondered if she should find a restaurant to stop at and see if the car followed, somewhere she could find people and a phone. Suddenly the car used its blinker and exited the freeway.
Sighing in relief, she scolded herself. I’m getting paranoid. But, I have good reason to be with Braxton involved in all of this.
That afternoon, she drove into the old military town of Fort Meade. Still alert to her surroundings, she saw nothing to concern her, yet she still felt on edge.
Watching the GPS closely now, for every instruction, she drove through town and soon found herself in the old school parking lot. Turning the car off, she sat there looking at the architecture of the old, large, white, three-story building with blue trim. It had a wraparound porch with rocking chairs, benches and a porch swing, inviting visitors to rest, southern style.
She was early. Getting out, locking the car, she strolled casually around the grounds, eventually sauntered into the museum and walked from one exhibit to the next.
Nonchalantly, she glanced around looking for someone who might be watching her. Then she started looking for Sheila. As she did so, her anxiety increased, knowing what they both could lose, if something should go wrong. She hadn’t come all this way to bring harm to her friend, or to go home without seeing her.
About a half dozen people were exploring the old school house along with some children. They were looking at the history of the place as the adult voices mingling with the sound of children’s laughter and questions.
A man and his wife talked about an exhibit, which Bess pretended to be interested in, when a tall, thin, woman with short black hair, styled in a bob, came up and stood beside her. Bess glanced at her, but not recognizing her, continued to look around cautiously.
Unexpectedly the woman whispered, “Bess follow me. My car’s out back.”
Startled, Bess looked directly at the woman next to her.
This isn’t Sheila! It’s nothing like her.
Then the woman in a normal voice asked, “Aren’t you Bess Compton? You remember me, don’t you, Helen Smith from school?”
Bess stared at her old friend, so surprised at her transformation. Recovering quickly she answered, “Helen! How are you?”
The two women talked casually, as Sheila led the way to her car as both looked around for trouble. Everything was as it should be.
Once in the car, the two looked at each other for a second, then hugged, so glad to be together after all this time.
“Why don’t you get into your car and follow me, Bess? I don’t want to come back into town, if I can help it. I’ll be sure not to lose you.”
“I can’t believe it’s you!” Bess said shocked.
“I told you that I wanted to disguise myself,” Sheila smiled, having done it the day before.
“You do look different, but once you say something, the expression in your eyes, the way you smile, it’ll expose you. You won’t be able to hide very well in Brandon Creek, you know. Just about everyone knows you there.”
“I know. Let’s talk about it at the house,” she responded looking around again, disappointed in her friend’s reaction.
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A Tale Of True Love Page 18
