Three Days to Forever (A Mac Faraday Mystery Book 9)

by Lauren Carr

  While waiting for the wedding ceremony, Tristan and Donny had set up a camera room in one of the church’s Sunday school classrooms where guests could record special messages for the bride and groom. At the same time, via a webcam set up in their hospital room, Mac, Archie, and Cameron would be able to greet the guests who they had originally invited to what was supposed to be their wedding.

  Tristan had just completed one last interview when, off camera, they heard a young woman’s voice call out to him. “Hey, are you Tristan Faraday, the bride’s brother?”

  The camera turned to take in the long athletic figure of a young woman in a very short black dress. Her slender legs ended in a pair of black stiletto pumps with four inch heels.

  “I’m Sarah Thornton, Murphy’s sister.”

  Still, the camera was focused on her legs that went on forever.

  “Tristan,” Mac directed him, “raise the camera so that we can see her face.”

  The camera’s formerly smooth movement jerked up to show that Sarah’s face was as flawless as her figure. She didn’t wear heavy make-up. She didn’t need to. She was naturally pretty. Her dark silky hair fell straight, just past her shoulders, with bangs straight across her forehead.

  “I know what you’re thinking,” she said to Tristan. After receiving no response, she continued, “This dress looks familiar.”

  “Uh-huh,” Tristan replied in a choked voice.

  “I left the academy so fast that I forgot to put my little black dress in the car,” Sarah said into the camera. “Luckily, I’m the same size as Jessica and she lent me this.” She grinned. “I had no idea she wanted me to be maid of honor. I hear you’re doing the video and audio recording.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  A wide grin crossed Sarah’s face. “I also hear that you own a pet tarantula.”

  Silence.

  “Does it have a name?”

  Silence.

  “Answer her, Tristan,” Mac prodded him.

  “Monique,” Tristan replied in a choked voice.

  Sarah moved in closer to the camera. “I love spiders.”

  The camera shot trembled.

  “You do?” Tristan’s voice went up an octave.

  “I would love to pet your spider, Tristan.”

  They could hear Tristan breathing heavily. “Seriously?”

  Mac and Archie looked over at Cameron across the room. “Seriously?” they asked her.

  Cameron was nodding her head. “Sarah is not like other girls. Josh says she used to put frogs down boys’ backs.”

  “Seriously,” Sarah said. “Do you have her with you?”

  They heard Tristan gulp before answering. “In my suite at the hotel.”

  “Great! That’s where they’re having the reception. As soon as we get back to the resort, you can take me up to your room and introduce me to Monique.”

  “I should warn you,” Tristan blurted out.

  “What?”

  “She’s eight inches long.”

  Sarah giggled. “The bigger the better.” She reached out to pat him on the cheek. “It’s a date then. Don’t forget. Right after the wedding, we’re going to your room and I’m going to pet your spider.”

  Off camera, they could hear Tristan breathing so heavily that he seemed to be on the verge of hyperventilating.

  At the door, Sarah stopped and smiled broadly to reveal dimples not unlike her brothers’. “I think it’s so cool that you like spiders, Tristan. I never met a guy who had a pet tarantula before. I have a feeling you and I are going to be close friends.” She trotted out of the room.

  The shaking camera shot focused on the empty doorway for a long moment.

  Finally, Mac intervened to ask, “Tristan do you—”

  “I need to go outside and get some air.”

  “I think you should,” Mac said as the screen went black.

  “Aw, Tristan made a new friend,” Archie said.

  “It’s about time,” Mac said. “I was getting worried about him.”

  “You know,” Cameron said, “this wedding thing isn’t half bad when you attend it this way. Maybe I can convince Tracy, Josh’s other daughter, to do her wedding this way next summer.”

  Archie sighed. “This is not bad at all.” She smiled up at Mac. “I admit, it isn’t as romantic as we had planned, and it was much more dramatic, but still, it’s lovely.”

  “Except for running for my life for the last three days and getting shot and having surgery and being accused of murder, this week has turned out pretty good.” Mac hugged her close.

  The television screen came to life again with a view of the church sanctuary. At the sound of the organ, the nurses and orderlies shushed them.

  With the groom in his dark dress naval uniform, Murphy, J.J., and Donny marched down the aisle to line up in front of the altar. Reverend Deborah Hess and Father James from the Catholic Church stood at the pulpit.

  In the front pew, Joshua stood with Destiny, Tad, and Jan. Tad Junior was in his father’s arms.

  Each of Jessica’s friends, clad in little black dresses of various styles, made their way down the aisle. The last one, the maid of honor, was Sarah Thornton. Her little black dress accentuated her flawless figure and long slender legs.

  “Does she have a boyfriend?” they heard Tristan whisper to someone where he was operating the camera.

  “No, she doesn’t,” Cameron replied into the mike that they had to communicate with Tristan.

  “Sweet,” Tristan replied. “Monique is going to love her.”

  “The bride is coming,” one of the nurses squealed.

  The wedding guests rose to their feet.

  Tristan turned the camera angle from the altar and up the aisle to where David, in his full dress marine uniform, stepped through the doors with Jessica on his arm.

  A gasp went through the church.

  Jessica Faraday was a woman with a mind of her own. Anyone who didn’t know it before discovered this fact when she came into view dressed in an exquisite gown that stopped three inches above the knee to reveal her long slender legs and her high-heeled open toed shoes. The scoop neck bodice and dress portion were decorated in the black and white pattern of the snow leopard—white with black spots. The floor-length white cape had a high collar. The white train wrapped around and attached to her waist, where it draped down her hips and around the back to trail behind her.

  She wore a diamond-and-fiery topaz tiara and a necklace that had been given to her grandmother, Robin Spencer, for her sixteenth birthday. Before that, it had belonged to another ancestor who had been of some nobility in England. The fiery topaz in her drop earring brought out the violet in her eyes.

  The bride carried a bouquet of red and white roses, which Archie had selected to decorate the church. In keeping with the snowy theme, Jessica’s fingernails and toe nails were painted white with a snowflake design.

  On their way down the aisle, David paused to wink at Chelsea who had taken a seat in the front pew. Formerly one of Archie’s bridesmaids, she had quickly shifted to the role as the date of the father-of-the-bride-by-proxy. Even if she was no longer a bridesmaid, it did not stop her from wearing the red strapless gown she had purchased for the wedding.

  Chelsea’s service dog, Molly, was seated at her master’s feet. The red bandana tied around her neck matched Chelsea’s gown.

  Not to be excluded from the main event, Gnarly sat next to Molly. He wore a black bandana with red trim. Things had worked out well for the German shepherd. With Mac and Archie in the hospital, he ended up with his own holiday getaway. He’d be spending time at Chelsea’s home with his favorite gal pal Molly.

  David handed his niece off to Murphy and took his position in the front pew next to Chelsea. As if she feared that once again, someone would try to take him from her, she wrapped both of h
er hands around his arm and held on tight. Patting her hands, David whispered into her ear before kissing her on the cheek. Laying her head on his arm, she clung to him throughout the ceremony.

  At the altar, Murphy kissed Jessica’s fingertips, which emitted an “ah” from the ladies in the church and the hospital room.

  “Murphy is so much like his father,” Cameron said while refilling her bowl of popcorn from the giant bowl brought in by an orderly. After toasting them with a Big Gulp that she had brought to the hospital, she took a big sip.

  Before they knew it, it was time for the vows. In a choked voice, Jessica vowed to love, honor, and cherish Murphy.

  Archie glanced up at Mac to see a tear form in the corner of his eye. “I, Archie Monday, take you, Mackenzie Faraday, to be my husband,” she said in a soft voice, “to love, honor, and cherish, from this day forward, in sickness and in health—”

  “You better,” he murmured.

  The nurses and orderlies in the room stopped watching the wedding to take in the scene between the couple in the hospital bed, the couple for whom the wedding they were watching had been planned.

  “For richer or poorer, for better or worse, ’til death do us part,” she finished.

  Mac clasped her face in his hands. “And I, Mackenzie Faraday, take you, Archie Monday, to be my wife, for better or worse, in sickness and in health,” he patted her injured leg, “for richer or poorer, ’til death do us part.”

  Blocking out the room filled with guests watching the wedding on the other side of town, they kissed passionately.

  Then came the exchanging of the rings.

  “May I have the rings?” the minister asked.

  Murphy and Jessica turned to look up the aisle. The guests turned around. The ushers opened the doors to the sanctuary.

  Bogie stepped into the doorway with Spencer on a leash. The dog’s whole body quaked with excitement. At the altar, Murphy gave Spencer a hand signal and mouthed, “Sit.”

  Spencer sat obediently.

  Bogie knelt and released the leash from Spencer’s collar.

  “Candi, come,” Murphy called.

  Spencer shot down the aisle like a rocket. Several feet from the couple, the pup launched herself to jump into Murphy’s waiting arms.

  The guests cheered while Murphy held the squirming pup so that J.J. could untie the ribbon to the pouch in which they had put the wedding bands. In theory, it seemed to be a simple and cute part of the ceremony that would emit an “ah” moment from the guests.

  But Spencer was not content to rest nicely in Murphy’s arms while J.J. untied the pouch. She wanted to kiss her man all over his face and squirm while doing so. After several minutes of waiting for the dog to be still in order for the rings to be produced and exchanged, the guests began to titter with laughter, which seemed to excite the sheltie even more, which made her wiggle harder.

  Finally, Murphy thrust Spencer into J.J.’s arms. He practically ripped the pouch open and emptied the contents into his palm.

  Not done with kissing her new master-to-be, Spencer twisted in J.J.’s arms and thrust her snout in Murphy’s direction at the same time that the rings hit his palm. With a jerk of her head, Spencer hit the underside of Murphy’s outstretched hand and sent the wedding bands flying.

  A roar of laughter went up through the church and the hospital room while Murphy tried to catch them in midair. He succeeded in snagging one, but the other bounced off his knuckles and dropped right down the front of the bride’s gown and landed perfectly between her breasts.

  Gasping, Jessica clutched her bosom with both hands.

  Silence dropped over the church sanctuary as the guests awaited the bride’s reaction to the mishap.

  While everyone held their breath, Murphy opened his palm to study the wedding band he had caught. “I believe that one is mine.” He pointed at her bosom.

  Without missing a beat, Jessica planted both of her hands on her hips. “Well, if you want it, big boy, come and get it.”

  The church erupted with loud laughter.

  In the hospital room, Mac laughed so hard the nurses were afraid he would pop his stitches.

  At the altar, Murphy made a show of pushing up his sleeves. “Don’t be nervous.”

  “Be gentle,” she replied, “this is my first time.”

  Murphy and Jessica doubled over with laughter. After they finally dried their eyes, he retrieved the ring and placed both of them in the minister’s hand.

  After the exchanging of the rings and the lighting of the unity candle, the minister pronounced them husband and wife. “You may kiss the bride.”

  Jessica threw her arms around Murphy’s neck and planted a passionate kiss on his lips that brought cheers and laughter throughout the church.

  The church bells chimed to signal midnight.

  “Happy New Year, Lieutenant and Mrs. Murphy Thornton,” the minister said.

  “Happy New Year, Mr. and Mrs. Mac Faraday,” Cameron said from the next bed over.

  “This isn’t just for the new year,” Mac said while gazing into Archie’s face, “this is forever.”

  Part Four: Forever

  Sunday, January 1

  Epilogue

  Eighteen Hours Later - Desert Outside Baghdad, Iraq

  Secret Islamic Terrorist Training Base

  From the air-conditioned comfort of the back of his limousine in the jeep convoy, Nathaniel Bauman surveyed the rows and rows of new and old recruits training to take over ranks in their battle for superiority over first the Middle East, and then over the world.

  It would all be his.

  Yes, Ismail Kochar and the rest of them believed he was supporting their cause because of their ideology.

  In reality, it came down to power. He who controlled it all won. As long as they depended on his dime to support their crazy cause, then he controlled them. Once they controlled the world, then he would control them, and as a result, the world would be his empire.

  It was really quite simple.

  He already controlled the most powerful man in the world, the President of the United States. Nathaniel Bauman owned Muhammad Muiz, the president’s special advisor on Islamic affairs, which meant Bauman controlled precisely how the United States fought, or rather didn’t fight, this so-called war.

  With his conglomerate owning two major news sources, Bauman had strategically placed himself in a position to keep the truth about the realities of the war on terrorism out of the public eye. As long as the news stifled stories about the growing number of terrorist incidents taking place on American soil, or labeling them as less scary crimes like carjackings or workplace violence, then the American public would never realize the gradual enemy invasion.

  Ignorance can be bliss—especially when you’re the enemy.

  If things went as Bauman planned, by the time America discovered what was really at stake in this war, it would be over and Islam would already be the victor.

  Everyone’s success or failure rested in Nathaniel Bauman’s hands.

  It’s great to be king.

  The limousine rolled to a halt at the end of the red carpet.

  Various members of the group had video cameras set up. Bauman’s bodyguard climbed out and opened the door. Hastily, Bauman climbed out, and, careful to not be caught on camera, scurried into the cinderblock building where he found Ismail Kochar smoking a thick cigar at a table.

  “Where’s the jet and O’Callaghan?”

  “Black radioed that they got held up in Dulles,” Ismail said. “They will be here in the next fifteen minutes.” He checked the time on his cell phone. “Time is slipping. I want this execution to be done today. New Year’s Day. It will make a bigger impact if we bring in the New Year with the triumph of executing Jassem al-Baghdadi’s murderer.”

  “Well, since we have time before th
e plane arrives, we can discuss that matter of importance—”

  “What matter?” Ismail asked with a cocked head.

  The door opened and a guard led Muhammad Muiz inside. “Bauman, what are you doing here?”

  “Important meeting to discuss the president’s decision to fire you and replace you with Jared Hasem,” Bauman said.

  Ismail jumped out of his seat. “Hasem is completely against our movement. He is against violence of any means or matter. If the president listens to him, why—”

  “Who told you this?” Muiz asked.

  “You did,” Bauman said. “When you called and begged me to meet you here so that we could discuss this matter and other changes happening in the American government.”

  Sucking in a deep breath, Muhammad Muiz backed away from the two men. “This must be a trick. You called me.”

  “No, I didn’t,” Nathanial Bauman insisted.

  “It’s a trap,” Muiz said. “To bring us all together to prove our conspiracy. What are we going to do? They know.”

  “Even if the Americans know, they can’t touch us,” Ismail said. “Allah is on our side.”

  “And I control the American government,” Bauman said. “I own the major news networks. The American people only hear what I want them to know about our government. Those other news journalists, they call our president gullible—I tell the people that he’s open minded. They say that Islam is a tyrannical religious movement run by madmen—I tell them that we are about peace, love, and happiness. Those who say otherwise are simply paranoid.”

  “But those who lured us here could be recording what you are saying.” Muiz fiddled with his tie. The sweat was pouring down his back.

  “But no one will believe them,” Bauman said with a grin. “They can record anything and everything they want. No one who can do anything to us will see or hear it.”

  “By the time anyone does believe them, Islam will have complete control of the United States, and Sharia law will be in effect,” Ismail said, “and anyone who does not bow down to us will be exterminated.”

  With a roll of his eyes, Nathanial Bauman chuckled at the terrorist’s insane quest. “Calm down,” he said to Muiz. “Just go back to the United States and keep whispering the pillars of peace, love, and happiness to the President. And tell him that anyone who says otherwise is participating in hate speech—”