Fernanda took some time to open the door. When she did, she couldn’t believe her eyes. Her beloved boss, the woman who was missing, who was all over the news and had the authorities out searching, was right there before her.
They stared at each other. Fernanda noted the nasty cut on Stella’s forehead and her overall disheveled appearance. Stella smiled. It was impossible not to feel amused at the sight of Fernanda, with her colorful pajamas and crumpled, sleepy face. Without saying anything, they hugged.
“May I come in?”
Fernanda made room for Stella, who headed straight for a couch in front of a TV that was showing the late-night news. Fernanda turned down the volume and sat next to Stella. She was still stunned by her presence.
“You need to see a doctor,” Fernanda said.
“I’m OK.”
“Uh, the police are looking for you.”
“Yeah. I heard the news.”
“You’re fine. Aren’t you?”
“I am. Sorry to bother you here.”
“That’s not a problem. It’s just that, maybe you should tell them you’re OK.”
“No, Fernanda. Not yet.”
“But—”
“Can I stay here for a little while?”
Fernanda’s jaw dropped. Stella wanted to stay here. In her house. Her humble house.
“I guess,” she said.
“You sure?”
“Yeah.” But Fernanda looked doubtful.
“What is it?”
“If they’re looking for you, and you’re here without them knowing about it, would that be legal?”
“Good question.”
“And, you know, me helping you—this isn’t very legal either, is it?”
“Yes and no,” said Stella. “Look, Nanda, this is the deal. If you agree to me staying here, nobody can know about it.”
“Deal. One hundred percent. Only thing is, why?”
“Why what?”
“I mean, everybody’s looking for you. People are worried. Your father’s worried. He’s a powerful man, you know.”
“I get it, but you’re going to have to trust me. There’s a reason I’ve chosen to stay out of sight for a while.”
“I don’t get it.”
“I’ve become sort of a problem to some people. Mean people.”
Fernanda’s eyebrows shot up. “Are you in danger?”
“I am. That’s why I need a safe place to stay.”
“Can’t your father help you?”
“I’m not sure about him, Nanda. I’m not sure I can trust him.”
Fernanda looked astonished.
“Do you understand?” said Stella.
“Oh. Oh my God. Yes. Absolutely.”
With that, Fernanda got up and made sure all of the windows and doors and curtains were properly closed. When she returned to the tiny living room, she declared, “You’re sleeping in my bed.”
Stella leaned back on the couch, very relieved to have found a place to stay. “This couch is good enough for me.”
“You’re sleeping in my bed, and I’m on the couch. That’s non-negotiable.”
“Thank you,” said Stella, yawning at the thought of a warm, comfortable bed. “You’re a true friend.”
31
GLASGOW, MONTANA
Leonard Hulk, director of the Secret Service, and Harrison Torp, the FBI director, arrived in Glasgow with an entourage of SUVs. Whatever privacy I had in this quiet little town was gone. Seeing the directors arrive made my heart stop. Their visit could only mean bad news. But as both men sat with me in my living room, a different scenario was presented. They informed me that they had good reason to believe that Stella was alive.
“What reason?” I demanded.
“For your own security, we can’t reveal details of the investigation at this point,” said Leonard. “But I assure you that both agencies are fully committed to this.”
“Don’t bullshit me. Give me what you’ve got.”
Leonard and Harrison exchanged a look. Harrison took over. Carefully.
“Stella was seen in a grocery store in Denver.”
“When?”
“Two days ago.”
Denver… What was she doing in Denver? “How was she?”
“She was fine, except for a cut on her forehead.”
“Where in Denver?”
Harrison passed the ball to Leonard, who proceeded with equal carefulness. “West Denver, around Lakewood.”
I knew Denver too well. What they were telling me was that my daughter had been seen with a cut on her head not far from Charles Dulles’s house. When it came to poisonous snakes, there were no coincidences.
“And where is she now?”
“We don’t know. But we have leads,” Harrison said.
“What damn leads?”
“She left Denver on a bus.”
“Where to?”
“California.”
“Have you checked her house?”
“Yes. She’s not there.”
“Come back when you find Stella. And make sure you find her well.”
“Mr. President.”
Both directors stood up.
Vicky was waiting midway to the kitchen, and she accompanied the men as they left the house. The information they shared with me had brought momentary relief. But they knew more than they let on. I considered calling Jonathan McDowell, the secretary of Homeland Security, but I was aware that he and Charles were close.
I saw Vicky returning to the kitchen.
We hadn’t spoken frankly for some time. I tried to leave behind my distrust of her. After all, her past connection with Charles had never actually been a secret. It was me who’d missed that information, or perhaps forgotten it. And the fact that she’d worked for him in the distant past didn’t necessarily mean our relationship was based on a false premise. The “what if?” had held me back, though.
Not today. I had more pressing issues.
I went to the kitchen after Vicky, but she wasn’t there. I headed to her bedroom. I’d only been there once before in my previous house, when Anya fell ill and I needed help. This time, I knocked on her door but didn’t wait for a response; I just went inside.
Vicky was sitting on the bed, holding a Bible. She glanced up at me, surprised by my invasion.
“May I?” I asked, and again I didn’t wait for her answer; I sat on the bed.
Vicky was a little uncomfortable with my behavior, which was exactly what I’d intended. To take her by surprise and leave no room for well-thought-out answers and elaborate lies.
“Do you need something?” she said, lowering the Bible.
“Tell me something, Vicky. Why do you think I asked you to keep a copy of my memoirs?”
“I’m not sure. You wanted me to keep a backup.”
She was being evasive. Of course it was a backup copy. What else could it be? But I wanted to know if she’d thought about why she had it.
“That’s all?” I pushed.
Vicky turned so we were facing each other. She took both my hands and held them while she looked in my eyes.
“Tony, I know you’ve been through a lot lately. You know you can count on me. Whatever happens, I’m here.”
“Thank you. About the memoirs, you haven’t answered me.”
“You tell me. Why did you want me to keep a backup?”
“Well, have you read the manuscript?”
“Yes.”
“So, what do you make of it?”
Vicky smiled, but not mockingly. She was choosing her words carefully. “What were you thinking?” she said.
“What do you mean?”
“It makes no sense. If I didn’t know you, I would easily assume you were a little crazy. What baffles me is, I know you so well, and you’re definitely not crazy. So I ask you again: Why do you want me to keep a copy of it? What for?”
“As insurance, Vicky. I think I told you that.”
“Honestly, I don’t get it. Who am I su
pposed to give your memoirs to, and in what circumstances?”
“If the circumstances arise, you’ll know. It will be obvious. And then I would expect you to give the memoirs to my close ones.”
“Of course I would.”
“Do you know who they are?”
“Mohe, for sure. Stella too, whether you like it or not. And Charles Dulles.”
Vicky must have noticed the transformation in my face as soon as she mentioned that name. I inhaled deeply before I was able to ask her, “Why Charles?”
“Well, he’s an old friend. I’ve worked for him, and I know how close both families were when Anya was around.”
“An old friend?”
“Am I missing something? I know you think he sent someone to break your bedroom window. I’m sorry to disagree with you, Tony, but I truly believe he wishes you well.”
I got up, struggling not to show Vicky the full extent of my disappointment and suspicion. “I don’t know about that. Anyway…do whatever you think is right.”
32
ARCATA, CALIFORNIA
Three days after Stella showed up at Fernanda’s house, she was feeling the need to breathe in some air on her own. The young woman had been more than Stella could have asked for—trustworthy, friendly, and incredibly interested in everything that contributed to her former boss’s well-being. The only problem was Fernanda’s intensity. Taking care of Stella seemed to have become a sort of life mission, when all Stella wanted was some time to ponder all that was going on and what she would do next.
It was early morning. The TV had been on permanently, and for the first time in days, news coverage of Stella’s disappearance was less frequent. But the media was the least of her problems. She knew that the authorities were investigating her. Arcata was an obvious place to look. Going outside Fernanda’s house was going to be tricky.
Stella was lying on the couch, reading an old environmental book given to her by a former boyfriend named Julian Hatzig, when Fernanda came up, arms crossed, with the look of someone expecting Armageddon at any minute.
“We have no food left,” she announced. “I’ll go to the market.”
Stella closed the book and sat up. She wasn’t willing to let Fernanda go out on her own. As lovely as she was, Fernanda was too young and had the habit of talking too much.
“Let’s go together,” Stella said. “When night falls.”
Fernanda nodded. “OK.” But she still looked like something was consuming her thoughts.
“What is it?” Stella asked.
“When you said you’re not sure about your father, what exactly did you mean by that?”
It was a tough question. Stella sighed. “That’s complicated.”
“Yeah, but he’s your father.” Fernanda sat next to Stella. She wasn’t prepared to accept an evasive answer.
“My father is a politician.”
“So?”
“There are people—all sorts of people—he was involved with. You know, to get where he got.”
“The presidency. Yeah. I’m not naive. But I get the feeling you’re questioning him in a different way. Like he’s a threat?”
“That’s not what I mean. I’m, uh, giving myself some time to think. To stay away from the mess and see what he does. We had a difficult relationship when I was younger, and just when I was ready to get near him again, someone close to him kidnapped me. It’s blurred things.”
“Then you know who took you?”
“I do. Charles Dulles. Remember him?”
“The Nature Dweller guy?”
“Yep.”
“And he’s a friend of your father’s?”
“More than that. He’s the one person responsible for getting my father elected as president.”
“Jesus. You’re in real trouble.”
“In so many words, yes.”
Fernanda touched Stella’s shoulder, like an old friend would. Stella smiled. Her young apprentice kept finding ways to surprise her.
“Don’t be afraid.”
“I’m not, Nanda. I’m being careful, that’s all. There are things going on beyond our line of sight. As much as I’m ready to see my father again, I don’t think I’m ready to go down because of him.”
“Can I say something?” Fernanda said and waited for Stella’s nod. “I was never a big fan of your father.”
Stella laughed. “But you were just a little girl when he left the presidency.”
“Yeah, but people talk, you know. He’s not very popular. I mean no disrespect.”
“None taken. As I said, he’s a politician.”
Fernanda turned, crossed her legs yoga style, and faced Stella like they were the best of friends. “Did your father tell you things?”
Fernanda’s curiosity amused Stella. “It depends. Like what?”
“You know, government stuff. Military bases doing shitty things, hidden technologies, Area 51-type stuff.”
“Oh. That. Sorry to disappoint you, but he didn’t share those things with me. I wasn’t talking to him when he was in the White House.”
“Yeah. OK. I’m just curious… So, how do you plan to go into the city without being seen by anyone?”
“Good question. Here’s what we’ll do. You’re going to dye my hair—I’ve checked your bathroom and you have all the right stuff—I’ll wear heavy makeup, and you’ll lend me one of your fancy coats. Then you do all the driving, and if we see anything suspicious, I’ll dive down in the car. And we’ll pray that I don’t get caught. Because if I do, you’ll probably go to jail.”
“Sounds like a plan,” Fernanda said, excited.
They got straight to work in the bathroom. Fernanda draped a towel around Stella’s shoulders, put on a pair of disposable gloves, and mixed the dark dye according to the package’s instructions. After dividing Stella’s hair into sections, Fernanda started painting on the dye. Forty minutes later, Stella took a long shower and emerged a brunette.
That evening, Fernanda stepped out of the house casually, took a quick look around, then signaled to Stella, who hurried out of the door and quickly got into the car. Five minutes later, they were in the city, their hearts pounding every time a car passed by or someone appeared to be looking in their direction.
At the local grocery store, Fernanda parked the car and got out. Both saw a black SUV passing by slowly. Fernanda lowered her head as she strode toward the store, while Stella dived down on the passenger seat. Both felt a chill pass over them.
33
LAS VEGAS, NEVADA
Loretta Johnson had been suffering from some anxiety lately. But no longer. She had been informed by her lawyers that Stella Morris, The Nature Dweller’s main lawyer, was missing, and that her replacement had little to no chance of turning things in their favor. Which, they explained in no modest terms, meant that Loretta could expect a swift win in two days, when her lawsuit would come to an end.
In the spirit of anticipated celebration, Loretta and two of her best widow friends were enjoying a cocktail at The Formaggio bar in Las Vegas, a place known for its exclusivity and quiet atmosphere.
“Ladies, how are the caipirinhas?” the bartender asked.
“I think we’re ready for another round,” Loretta said, and her two friends agreed.
It was 6:30 p.m. The long row of tigress-leather bar seats was entirely occupied by guests. Six seats to their right, a middle-aged gentleman dressed in a fine-cut navy-blue blazer ordered his third drink.
“Thank you,” the elegant man said as the other bartender served him a single malt.
Through the bar mirror, which covered the entire wall behind the bartenders, the man closely followed every move Loretta Johnson and her friends made. That man was simply known as Paul, though it wasn’t his name. He had no name. He was a Noctis operative.
“What happens now—you get your money back?” Loretta’s friend, Berta, asked her.
“I hope so. Plus punitive damages. I want them to bleed real bad.”
“I
’ll drink to that!” Berta raised her glass.
“Cheers!”
The three women sipped their drinks and Berta continued her questioning. “But, well, it’s not like it’s going to make much difference to you. I mean, financially you’re good, darling.”
“I know. It’s not the money. Well, OK, it’s the money.”
They laughed.
“You’re something. Next time, instead of saving the whales, throw a party. At least then you know where your money goes.”
“What good would that do?”
“Are you kidding me? The happiness of your friends!”
Despite the six chattering people who separated Paul from the three ladies, he could hear their conversation. Not that he cared. His mission would be carried out regardless of anything they said.
His brief from Noctis informed him that two years before, Loretta Johnson had had a next-generation pacemaker fitted in her chest to help maintain a normal heartbeat. Just under her skin, flexible leads were threaded through a vein into the appropriate part of her heart. They were meant to detect the heart’s electrical activity and transmit that information to the pacemaker’s electronics. If the heart’s activity was perceived to be irregular, the pacemaker would give out an electrical charge that would cause the cardiac muscle to contract, pacing the pumping of the heart.
Paul finished his scotch and pulled out a cell phone provided by Noctis. He dialed a number that wasn’t a telephone number and prepared to press a dial button that wasn’t programed to dial any other phone. He was simply finishing what he had been instructed to do: locate the target, confirm her identity, and make her heart stop. As Paul pressed the dial button, an electronic signal was transmitted. That signal was going to interfere with Loretta’s pacemaker for the next few seconds.
After he pressed the button, Paul put the Noctis device to his ear and pretended to be waiting for someone to respond. He was, however, staring at Loretta in the wall mirror. She and Berta were still talking. Loretta was laughing and nodding when she felt something in her chest. The nodding stopped, and the smile was gone right after.
Leave Her Out: A Novel Page 12
