Miz Scarlet and the Imposing Imposter

by Sara M. Barton

  Two minutes later, an unexpected pounding on the door sent my heart racing. I finished what I was doing, even as I sputtered to respond before the door was kicked in.

  “I’ll be right out!” I promised. Flushing, I yanked my pants up and pulled at the knob.

  “Let’s go,” he growled, even as I tried to head to the sink. “You don’t need clean hands.”

  Those were ominous words. Hanging in the air, their meaning unfiltered, undeclared, they delivered the threat they were meant to provide. I was expendable. So, why did he let me use the toilet? Why was it okay for me to have soiled hands, but not soiled pants? Were we making a video for my family? Did they want to capture me peeing on cue, as they moved in to slit my throat?

  Trotting forward on my stocking feet, I made my way back through the garage, and stood like a six-year-old on a field trip, showing the teacher my best behavior, while Jere unbolted the door to the storage room. He stood aside to let me pass, and as I went through, he kicked me right in the ass. This time, I didn’t remain upright. This time, my slipper stockings were no match for the shiny gray floor. My hands hit the hard surface of the unyielding concrete and I skidded a good ten feet, right into a table leg on a work bench. As my head came into contact with the pine board, I took a whack.

  “Next!”

  Jim Jordan hurried towards his captor, terrified that he would get the same treatment. From my prone position on the basement floor, I couldn’t say I blamed him.

  They were gone all of five minutes. In that time, I had the chance to get my bearings. One thing was clear. No one had expected me to have my cell phone on me. That much I could say for certain. Neither Ned nor Jere searched me. Was it because I was wearing loungewear? And even Kenny apparently hadn’t known it, or he would have realized where I was minutes after I was kidnapped. What did that mean? Through the fog of the confusion caused by my blow to the head, even as fear rose up and settled in a big lump in my throat, a little voice spoke. As soon as they rescue the Jordans, they’ll come for you. Hang on, Miz Scarlet. It’s only a matter of time.

  And then the door burst open and Jere rushed me. I saw him and I flinched, expecting a blow. Instead, I felt his brutal hands snatch at the lanyard around my neck. I felt him wrap the cord around my neck until it was tight. “I’ll kill you! I’ll freaking kill you!”

  There was a terrible pressure on my throat, and I couldn’t breathe. In fact, I couldn’t do much of anything. My hands were absolutely useless as the big man picked up the little rag doll and shook her mercilessly. The rag doll was me and I was being choked to death. And then my cell phone rang. Suddenly, I was free to drop to the concrete floor as Jere pulled the cord off my neck and answered the call.

  “She’s dead! Do you hear me? She flipping dead!” he bellowed into the phone. As I cowered, horrified by the magnitude of his temper tantrum, Jere stomped around the room, screaming at the mouthpiece. He was like a deranged crack addict going through withdrawal. The longer it went on, the more desperate I became to get away. I knew it was only a matter of time before he grabbed me for more punishment.

  My head hurt like hell. My throat felt like he had reached down and tried to rip out my tonsils with his bare fingers. And my knees? They were knocking so hard, I didn’t think they would support my weight. But when the crazy man turned his back on me, when I had that one chance in a million to get out of that torture chamber, I took it. I burst out of there as fast as I could, and even as Jere slowly came to the realization that I was going, going, gone, I was already shutting and locking that door. With the dead bolt in place, I ran back into the party room, hoping to find an exterior door that would allow me to escape this prison.

  Jim Jordan was lying on the carpet, his arm bent at an unnatural angle, his mouth open, his eyes half-closed. I wondered in a moment of panic if I should just run right past him, but I knew I couldn’t leave him behind, not if he was alive. Falling to my knees, I shook him.

  “Jim! Wake up!” A groan. A sign of life. “Please, we have to go!”

  Eyes flickered. I saw pain spread across his face. “Sorry.”

  “Forget it. Get up. We have to go now.”

  “Can’t,” he told me. “Can’t.”

  “Yes, you can. You must. Hurry up. We have to go get Julie and the kids!”

  I knew it was cruel, even as I said it. There was no way we were going to rescue his family, but I needed him to believe we were headed there. I needed to get him moving. Even as I felt like the lowest of the low for deceiving him, I hurried him to his feet. I wrapped his good arm around my neck and half-dragged him to the door.

  “What’s going on down there?” Ned’s disembodied voice seemed to come from above. My mind took a moment to process what it knew and figure out the rest. It took the clues and churned out a hypothesis. My tormenter was standing at the top of the stairs, less than twenty feet away. Time was of the essence. Fumbling with the lock, I turned the knob and pulled, even as Jim fell across my neck. Shoving the half-conscious man upright, I pulled him through the door to the backyard. We had gotten all of ten feet when the first shot was fired.

  “Down on the ground! Down on the ground! Do it now!”

  Even as the advancing army of black-clothed soldiers moved in, Jim and I flopped to the ground. Behind me, Ned did not. Despite the warnings, he remained defiant. A burst of gunfire filled the air with smoke, acrid black smoke.

  “Hold your fire!” Hands on me, lifting me to my feet. I couldn’t stand. I just couldn’t stand. My head felt like it weighed a hundred pounds. There was red everywhere I looked, even as I passed out.

  I don’t know how much time passed. My brother later told me that I was unconscious for about four hours. It could have been the shock and horror of my ordeal, or even the fact that Jere really did try to choke me to death. Maybe it was a combination of the two. All I know is that when I finally managed to rouse myself, Kenny was sitting at my bedside, in the chair next to my tearful mother.

  “Miz Scarlet,” said Kenny softly, taking my hand in his. “You saved the day!”

  “I did?” My voice sounded scratchy as I attempted to speak. That was definitely the residual damage from the choking I got.

  “They got the Jordans back safely.”

  “Great.”

  “Jim said to tell you he’s really, really sorry.”

  “Mmm....”

  “Sorry? What’s he sorry about?” That was Lacey. She came around the bed and parked herself by my feet. The inquisitive eyes weren’t about to let the subject go. “What was he talking about?”

  “He told Jere I had my cell phone on me.”

  “In his defense,” said Kenny, “Jere had just broken his arm with a crowbar, because Jim wouldn’t tell him what you two discussed.”

  We all winced at that. No wonder he gave me up, poor bastard.

  “Tell him I forgive him, if he forgives me for lying to him.”

  “You lied to him?” That was Bur. Amazing how many people you can fit into a hospital room, isn’t it? I think the only folks missing were the butcher, the baker, and the candlestick maker.

  “I told him we were going to rescue his family. It was the only way I could make him come with me. He was in rough shape.”

  “He’s not the only one,” said a man in a white coat with a clipboard. “The patient needs some quiet time. I suggest from this point on, we just have one visitor at a time. She needs her rest.”

  “I’ll stay,” said Bur.

  “She’s my daughter,” Laurel replied. Snippy. That meant she was really worried.

  “Why don’t I take the Googins...er, ladies down to the cafeteria and grab a cup of tea?” Kenny suggested kindly. “I’ll fill in some of the blanks in the tale. And Bur will make sure his sister remains in one piece.”

  “Promise.” One terse word. I looked up. My brother’s oath seemed lacking in sincerity. For a moment, I thought I was in big trouble.

  “Shall we, ladies?” The gallant security expert rose up
from his seat, positioned himself behind my mother’s wheelchair, and gave me a little wink as Lacey reluctantly joined his conga line to the cafeteria.

  “Wait!” I croaked, barely raising my head from the pillow. “What about Paul? Is he still okay?”

  “He’s more than okay. In fact, he’s been worried about you, Scarlet.” Lacey smiled and turned to her companions. “Why don’t we stop in and tell him the good news?”

  “He’s two floors down, dear, in the cardiology wing. So convenient,” my mother confided.

  “Give him my best,” I called after them. The minute they were out the door, my brother morphed into Frankenstein’s monster.

  “What the hell were you thinking, having an affair with Ned Sorkin!” he growled. “Are you insane? Don’t you know what he did to me?”

  “You’re one to talk,” I countered. “Sleeping with Gretchen Powick. Or whatever the hell her real name is!”

  “Not the same! Not the same at all! Sorkin was a criminal and apparently a murderer! You could have been killed!” Bur was livid.

  “He seduced me!” I gasped, a hand to my throat as I nearly choked on the words. My brother snorted with derision. I hated to concede his point, but my excuse sounded lame to me, too.

  “Damn it, Scarlet! I trusted you, and this is how you betray me?”

  Chapter Twenty One --

  “I didn’t do it on purpose! I didn’t do it to hurt you!” My story came spilling out, and as it did, Bur got a strange look on his face.

  “You didn’t have to give him my financial information. Was that just to impress him?”

  “What?” I tried to raise myself up in bed, but the effort was just too much. “What are you talking about? What financial information?”

  “From my computer,” was his bitter reply.

  “I don’t have access to your computer, Bur. I’d have to have your password.”

  “Did you let Jere into my apartment? That cheese weasel could have installed a keystroke program in the blink of an eye.”

  “Why would I do that?” Now I was confused. Was my brain scrambled from the blow to the head? “Bur, what are you telling me, that someone hacked your accounts?”

  “It’s all gone. Every last dollar I have in this world.”

  Even as he said that, my brain went numb. Was that denial, or just the stress of nearly losing my life to a maniac? This had been a really, really bad day. I just wanted to forget everything and fall asleep. And then it dawned on me.

  “Oh, crap. Oh, crap. Bur, you have to check all the accounts. Laurel, Lacey, me....”

  “Why?”

  “It was all part of Ned and Jere’s plan, to completely and utterly ruin us. That’s why they kidnapped the Jordans, to get Jim to do their hacking.”

  “Meaning what, you think that you’re cleaned out, too?”

  “Where’s Jim? He can get it back! He’s got to get it back! He only cooperated because they were threatening his family!”

  “What in God’s name are you talking about?” Now the shoe was on the other foot. “Are you saying that Jim Jordan knows what happened to my money?”

  “He stole everything from Steve Kim at Ned’s behest.”

  “Well, that’s just hunky dory, Miz Scarlet. For your information, Jim Jordan took his family and disappeared! Everyone’s looking for them, including the FBI!”

  It could always be worse, I thought. At least I was still alive. That was something to be thankful for, even as I contemplated starting over once again. A part of me wanted to forget the pain and find the salvation. This time, I would turn over a new leaf. Maybe money wasn’t everything. I would find a tiny apartment for Laurel and me. We’d sell the house and recover some of the money. This was going to hurt, though, for a long, long time. It was the straw that struggled to break the camel’s back, but I would remain standing. I was not going down, not without a fight. I may not be Scarlett O’Hara, but I would take a page from her playbook. I would go on in the face of adversity. Frankly, I did give a damn, but I was damned if I was going to let the world see me wave the white flag.

  Two days later, dressed in my hospital gown, robe, and socks, I was wheeled into a conference room for a meeting with the press. Limited to five minutes, I was flanked by law enforcement officials from the FBI, the Connecticut State Police, and the Cheswick Police Department. Larry was there, along with Max, to answer questions about the murders of Gretchen and Lonnie. I gave my own well-edited account of the bizarre tale.

  “I escaped by waiting until Jere Wellstone’s attention was diverted and then running....” Blow by blow, I recounted my terrifying ordeal. Cameras clicked throughout, punctuating my words. “And then I saw the SWAT team move in.”

  Every word had been carefully chosen, every phrase had been meticulously scripted, right down to the part about how the missing Jim Jordan had raided our bank accounts and stock portfolios, before fleeing. The Wilson family was flat broke, the result of Ned Sorkin’s master plan to destroy us. In the end, the bastard succeeded.

  Once I read my statement, I was wheeled back to my hospital room, without answering a single question. The police guard greeted me by the door with a curt nod before resuming the position, slouched in his chair, arms folded, foreboding frown on his face. Welcome to my world. I’ve become an instant celebrity, for all the wrong reasons. Now I even need a bodyguard. Where the hell are my Foster Grants?

  Life as we knew it seemed to change overnight. Ned Sorkin’s legion of followers went viral in their response to their hero’s death at the hands of the police. Someone firebombed the front porch of the Four Acorns Inn, but the cop on duty managed to put out the fire with the extinguisher we keep in the front hall. A motley group camped out on the street, picketing everyone and everything associated with us. Some believed it was all a plot by the anti-environmental lobby to take out Ned, that I was the femme fatale used to lure him into the trap. Conspiracy theories thrived in that fertile climate, fueling the raging fire directed at the Wilson family and the Googins legacy.

  Even Myrtle and Willow were menaced. A bat-wielding creep broke into their home in the middle of the night and threatened the women with bodily harm. Luckily, a patrol car was making its rounds at that time and the officer spotted the man breaking the glass on the kitchen door. The response was forceful, with several cops charging the house en masse. It turned out the wannabe batter had previous convictions for violent offenses and parole violations, so he was immediately incarcerated on existing charges.

  Laurel and Lacey were distraught by the ugly turn of events. Bur and Boynton got together and decided it was best to send the Googins girls on a two-week cruise through the Eastern Caribbean, to keep them out of harm’s way. The ship’s security staff would keep an eye on them. Since Myrtle and Willow were at loose ends and still fearful of more retaliatory attacks, they went along with Laurel and Lacey. As Kenny pointed out, it was a lot cheaper than hiring private security around the clock, and Willow could pose as Laurel’s nurse, giving the three Googins girls better cover.

  Four days after the press conference, I was finally discharged from the hospital and moved to an undisclosed location, in the hopes that Ned Sorkin’s many followers would eventually become discouraged by their lack of access to me, give up, and go home. It took five different vehicles and three different drivers in a James Bond-like diversionary scheme to ferry me to my temporary home in the Poconos. Losing the diehard activists who were determined to finish what Ned and Jere set out to do wasn’t easy. It seemed like every time the state troopers pulled over one vehicle, another took its place.

  Bur and Boynton were ensconced in the luxurious log cabin with the Jacuzzi on the wraparound deck overlooking the mountains. Kenny, as the hired security hand, had remained behind, to look after the inn and to finish following the leads in the case.

  “Wow,” I sighed, as I looked down the mountain to the little town below. “Beautiful.”

  “Wait till you see the inside,” said Bur.


  “How are you feeling, Scarlet?” my cousin wanted to know. The truth was I felt overwhelmed. As the muscles and soft tissue injuries began to mend, I wasn’t sure I could repair my confidence.

  “You’ll be here for a week, maybe two,” said Hillary Parsons, the FBI agent coordinating the case. “We’ll do the debriefing as warranted, so there will be plenty of people in and out of here on a daily basis. Once we’re confident that things have simmered down, we’ll move you to another location, where you’ll have more opportunities to get out and about.”

  “What are you saying? That I can never go home again?”

  “We’ll see,” she replied. That answer didn’t fill me with confidence.

  Kenny’s arrival two days later perked me up. I was relieved to see him, to feel those arms around me again. I slept better at night, knowing Kenny was down the hall.

  Things were moving quickly as the days flew by. Bur, Kenny, and Boynton got together with some of their friends, to strategize the Wilson family future. The legal team brought in some media experts and public relations specialists, to find ways to deflect the growing disinformation about what had happened and why it happened. They were constantly providing information to the press, highlighting the timeline and explaining that Ned Sorkin was hardly the warm, fuzzy, law-abiding type.

  One by one, women came forward with harrowing tales of his Machiavellian maneuvers. All of the women had two things in common. They were members of prominent families and Ned Sorkin seduced them. Jackie Werthers was the the daughter of a well-respected Democratic senator on the Science and Technology subcommittee, handling legislation windmill farms. Ned tried to blackmail Senator Werthers by compromising the daughter. It was a well-orchestrated scheme, one that involved several support players and a lot of psychological manipulation.

  For every tale of Ned’s bad behavior that went public, three more would surface. One particular afternoon, as we sat around the dining room table to discuss the latest, the news was stunning. Amanda Wainwright, the college-aged daughter of Pete Wainwright, a DOJ official charged with prosecuting eco-terrorist cases, was yet another of Ned’s victims. The plot was halted in its earliest stages, the investigation was ongoing, and the father was on the warpath, looking for blood. He had to recuse himself, but that didn’t stop him from putting on a push to get to the bottom of Ned’s network.