Getting Away Is Deadly

by Sara Rosett

  “Not your fault.”

  MacInally came over and leaned down on one knee. “Ellie, you scared the hell out of me.” He pulled off his tan windbreaker and Mitch wrapped it around my shoulders. “I’m calling an ambulance for you. I know the police will want to talk to you, but let’s make sure you’re okay.” He took out his phone. As he dialed, he smiled and said, “It survived the fall. Landed on a kid’s backpack. Thanks for getting it back to me.”

  An Everything In Its Place Tip for an Organized Trip

  Camera Tips

  Before you leave home, check your camera to make sure the batteries are charged and everything is in working order.

  Stock up on batteries, memory cards, and film, if needed.

  To make sure you don’t lose pictures, download them while on the road. You can use hotel business centers or Internet cafés. If you’re in an area with one-hour photo businesses or drugstores with self-serve photo kiosks, you can transfer your photos to a CD.

  If you use rechargeable batteries, it’s a good idea to bring regular batteries, too, as a backup. Some rechargeable batteries lose power quickly.

  If your camera has an LCD screen, you can switch it off to conserve battery power.

  Keep your camera in a camera bag and avoid exposing it to extreme temperature variations.

  Keep your camera safe. Don’t carry it with the strap over your shoulder or leave it unattended even for a few moments on tables in restaurants.

  Bring a disposable camera for kids. Let them record the trip their way. They’ll have the most interesting pictures!

  Chapter Thirty

  Monday

  “Ellie, move a little to your left,” Nadia instructed and I inched closer to MacInally. The wind whipped my hair into my eyes and I pushed it behind my ear as Nadia snapped the picture. “Stay there,” Nadia said. “Let’s get a couple more.”

  It was the kind of Monday that made you glad you weren’t at work. A few puffy white clouds dotted the vibrant blue sky overhead. The air was so crisp and pure it threw everything from the blades of grass at our feet to the solid statues of the Korean War Memorial into sharp relief.

  “Okay. I think we’ve got enough,” Nadia called out as she walked toward us. “Mr. MacInally, it was a pleasure to meet you,” she said as she shook his hand. She pulled me into a crushing hug. “I’ll send you the pictures as soon as I download them.” She moved down the line and gave Mitch a more reserved hug. “If you ever end up in Georgia, call us,” she said and headed down the path.

  I waved to Nadia, then turned to MacInally. “Thanks for coming out. I know the pictures will mean a lot to Debbie.” MacInally, Mitch, and I stood on a path beside the memorial. A black chain scalloped gently from pole to pole, separating us from nineteen stainless steel statues capturing a patrol’s cautious movement. Despite the solidness of the statues, their rain ponchos billowed around them, giving the impression that they’d just moved when you looked at them. Even though the sun was blazing down, they were so lifelike that it was kind of eerie.

  It was a very different memorial from the Vietnam Memorial. The Wall was all about the names. To me, it seemed that this memorial was about capturing the men themselves as they fanned out across the shallow terraces.

  “I was glad to do it.”

  I started and realized MacInally was replying to my statement that Debbie would appreciate the pictures.

  He was withdrawn and solemn today, and although I was bursting with questions, I hesitated to interrupt him. Mitch stood beside us, taking in the memorial. This was the first time Mitch had seen this part of the Mall. I sneaked a look at my watch and relaxed. Plenty of time. We had about an hour before we had to be back at the hotel to check out. Mitch had received his all-important certificate of completion for the FROT class, so he was officially finished with the course.

  MacInally walked a few feet away from us, put his hands in his pockets, and surveyed the memorial. My phone rang. “That’s probably Livvy again,” I said to Mitch. I stepped back a few paces as I pulled it out.

  Mitch said, “Go ahead, talk to her. MacInally won’t mind. I’m going to check on him.” Mitch ambled toward MacInally.

  When I finally got my phone out, I realized it was a text message, not a phone call. I switched to the message and read

  Junk mail delivered. Thx. Tony.

  I guess he’d gotten whatever he needed from the mail. I hoped someday I’d get to hear the full story, but for now I punched in, “UW,” text lingo for “you’re welcome.” As I reached back to put my phone away, my shoulder muscles bunched and tightened. I slowly straightened my arm and cautiously rotated my stiff shoulder.

  MacInally and Mitch had made their way back to me and MacInally noticed the movement. “How’s the arm?” he asked.

  “Not too bad, considering the alternative. It was the five hours in the emergency room that nearly did me in.” Although the visit had been worth it because they’d thoroughly checked the baby and everything was fine.

  He grinned and said, “I don’t want to see the inside of a hospital again any time soon either. And the baby?”

  “Fine. The doctor told us that babies, even unborn ones, are very resilient. He did emphasize that I shouldn’t get pushed over any more railings, though.”

  We turned and walked slowly down the path, away from the memorial. Mitch caught my hand as we strolled. The mood wasn’t as somber, so I asked MacInally, “Did Detective Mansfield say what’s going to happen with Alan Archer?” The story had been on the front page of the newspaper this morning.

  “He’s in custody. The heavyweight who attacked me says Archer hired him to kill me. Fortunately for me, he liked to use his fists instead of guns and he didn’t quite finish the job. They’re searching Archer’s house and office, going through his files. I think they’re looking for your sister-in-law’s Metro card. I doubt he kept it, but Detective Mansfield indicated that they’ve found evidence that he doctored reports going to the BRAC. I don’t know if they’ll get him on the murder in the Metro, but with what they’ve found so far he won’t work for any more commissions.”

  “Have you talked to a Detective Brown?” I asked.

  “Yes, I’ve had several conversations with him, too. I think I’ll be talking to policemen for quite a while.”

  We paced along for a few steps, and then I said, “I think I’ve been able to figure out Jorge’s movements, but not what they mean. He was here last fall, working landscaping jobs and hiding out in the Latino immigrant community. Then in the winter he went to Georgia where he romanced Lena and got the information on Alan Archer. After that, he came back here and tried to romance Summer.”

  MacInally nodded. “He was quite a Don Juan, wasn’t he?”

  “Yes, but why did he want something on Alan Archer?” I wondered.

  “From what I’ve been able to gather from the police, he wanted inside information on the Pentagon. Alan Archer was in a position to provide sensitive information that he could feed back to his terrorist cell.”

  Mitch nodded. “Certain terrorists are known for returning to targets that were missed or not completely destroyed. Remember, the World Trade Center was hit the first time in 1993.” We were all silent for a few moments, thinking about the horrific second attack in 2001. I closed my eyes briefly. I didn’t want to think about the possibility of another attack on the Pentagon or the Capitol, but I knew every building that held significance for me, each place I’d visited on our sightseeing tour, was a possible target.

  MacInally rubbed the back of his head and said, “Apparently, once Jorge made the demand and Archer realized what he wanted, Alan couldn’t do it. He could kill a man during a firefight, but he couldn’t give away information that would endanger thousands of people’s lives. He must have decided he had to take Jorge out. He’d been tracking Jorge’s movements and knew his routine.”

  “So it was just death on a large scale he couldn’t condone? Noel’s death and framing Summer didn’t bother
him?” I asked incredulously.

  MacInally shrugged. “There’s no accounting for how someone’s mind works, especially someone as warped as Alan.”

  “But at least Summer is cleared now,” Mitch said, then added, “But it looks like Vicki Archer may have a hard time finding work.”

  “And that means Summer will have to start over in her job search, but I think that, in the long run, she’ll be glad she’s not working for Vicki Archer.” I tilted my head to look over at MacInally. “What about Noel’s death?”

  “The military is reopening it. I wasn’t in any state to know how the investigation of the incident was handled back then. Since Archer was the only witness they took his statement and wrapped it up. I couldn’t contribute anything and with Shipley and Noel dead, they didn’t have any indication that Archer wasn’t telling the truth. We’ll have to wait and see what comes from them reopening the case.”

  I wasn’t sure if I should ask the next question, but I said, “And Lena?”

  “She’s in custody, too.” My sympathy must have shown on my face because he said, “Now, don’t look at me like that. Sure, I was fond of that gal, but it was a bit too good to be true. I always asked myself what she was doing with an old codger like me.” He laughed sharply. “Now I know. She was keeping an eye on me.”

  He didn’t seem to mind talking about Lena, so I asked. “Did you hear why Lena sent Jorge that check?”

  “It seems that Jorge had her convinced he was starting his own business. She must have thought he was in this country legally. The detectives think the money was going to fund his terrorist activities. With all the new laws and restrictions on transfers, it’s really put the squeeze financially on terrorist organizations. Their funding isn’t what it used to be.” We’d reached the sidewalk. “Well, this is it, I suppose,” he said.

  We said good-bye and Mitch got a taxi for us. The trip back to the hotel would take under five minutes and we could have easily walked to the Metro and ridden it back to the hotel, but Mitch said I needed to take it easy. Instead of bristling at the kid-glove treatment, I decided to enjoy the pampering.

  I settled back into the taxi and said to Mitch, “How do you think Jorge found out about Lena and her connection to Alan? How did he, or actually Tony, know to send Jorge to Georgia and find her?”

  Mitch said, “I don’t know, but I bet that since Alan Archer was their target, they probably researched him and his background, looking for anything they could exploit.”

  “You’re probably right. I doubt it was a coincidence that Jorge was their landscaper. He probably sought out that job, just like he sought out the job drywalling Lena’s garage.”

  We hit a bump and I grabbed the armrest and looked out the windshield at the brake lights of the car in front of us. There was a bumper sticker on it for the Air and Space Museum. I swallowed and tried to push down the thoughts that filled my mind. I realized Mitch was talking to me. “What?”

  “I asked if you were okay. You went quiet all of a sudden.”

  I glanced at the bumper sticker again, then looked back at Mitch. “I was just thinking about Saturday.” I closed my eyes. “At the museum. I keep remembering the way the floor looked…so far away.” I opened my eyes. “What if I hadn’t been able to hold on? What if you hadn’t been right there?” I blinked because my vision had gone blurry.

  Mitch took my hand and unclenched my fingers from the edge of the seat. I hadn’t realized I had my hand clamped around the upholstery. “You were able to hold on and I was there.” He laced his fingers through mine. “You can’t focus on the what-ifs. You have to let that go.”

  I wiped the corner of my eyes with my other hand and said with a bit of a smile, “That is so you—just let it go. But when I think about what could have happened…to the baby…to me…” I swallowed hard, then managed to say, “I was so foolish.”

  “Ellie,” Mitch said as he gripped my hand. “I’m not saying it wasn’t a big deal. I nearly died when I saw what was happening, but did you know Alan was there, following you?”

  “No.”

  “Did you have any idea you were in danger?”

  “No.”

  “Then you weren’t foolish. You didn’t intentionally put yourself in danger. You can’t dwell on that or you’ll drive yourself crazy. And I know you. You already worry about every tiny thing. Don’t add this to the list, okay?”

  “Okay.” I blinked again and Mitch squeezed my hand. I gave him another smile and said I was okay, but I knew it would be a long time before I stopped thinking about all the horrible things that could have happened that day.

  I felt something strange, a twitch that felt both new and somehow familiar. I yanked my hand out of Mitch’s.

  “What? What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing. I think…” I put both of my hands on my stomach. “I felt something. Maybe it was nothing, but I thought the baby moved. It was a flutter. I don’t know…it’s been a long time since I felt that sensation.”

  Then it came again, a definite movement. I grabbed Mitch’s hand and placed it under mine. “Do you feel it?”

  We waited. I felt the small pressure inside me, pushing out.

  “Nope. Nothing,” he said, but he didn’t look disappointed.

  “There. There it goes again,” I said.

  He shook his head, but his smile was wide. “It must be so small that only you can feel it right now.”

  “I’m sure that will change.”

  “Folks, I hate to interrupt your moment of joy here,” the taxi driver said sarcastically and nodded his head at the hotel. We’d arrived and hadn’t even noticed it.

  We climbed out of the taxi and crossed paths with Gina and Irene. They were about to step into the airport shuttle for their flights home.

  Irene patted me on the shoulder. “You’ve got my e-mail address. Keep me up to date on your pregnancy. And I’ll let you know if we have any…additions of our own.”

  “Yeah, that kitchen remodel is taking forever,” Grant said as he handed off their luggage at the back of the van.

  “Not that,” Irene said.

  They exchanged a quick, secretive smile and he said, “Right. Not that addition.”

  I guess he was okay with the idea of foster care or adoption.

  Gina handed me a business card. “It’s been—well, I was going to say fun, but that’s not quite the word. Unusual is more like it. See you,” she said and hopped in the van.

  A melancholy mood swept over me, surprising me. I was going to miss these women. We walked through the lobby and I stabbed at the elevator button. “All these good-byes. It makes me a little sad.”

  “Don’t worry, it’s just the hormones. You’ll feel better later.”

  I swung toward him. “Don’t talk to me about hormones. Anyone would be sad to see friends leave—” I broke off when I saw he was grinning. I could always count on Mitch to know what to say to make me smile and lighten the mood.

  My phone rang and the name on the screen was Summer Avery.

  “Hi, Ellie,” she said when I answered. “I’m so sorry I couldn’t make it over to say good-bye this morning. I’m, well…” her voice turned softer. “I’m with Tony right now and he’s filled me in on everything. I’d love to come over but we still—” Her voice broke off and she covered the phone. I heard some giggling; then she said, “Sorry about that. Tony and I have a lot to talk about.” She sounded distracted again as she quickly added, “I sent you a fax. Have a good trip home.”

  “That was Summer. She’s with Tony. She’s sorry she can’t come say good-bye in person, but I don’t think her attention would be on us, if she came.”

  Mitch nodded and said, “Thistlewait called this morning. He’d checked in with Tony for me. Tony said the situation they were working on was resolved last night and he’ll be heading out of town. Summer doesn’t have anything to worry about as far as shady characters bothering her again are concerned. That’s probably what he’s telling her.”

>   “I think there’s a little more to it than that,” I said dryly, then asked, “So, the terrorist cell is wrapped up? There wasn’t anything in the paper this morning or on the news.”

  “If it was done right there wouldn’t be,” Mitch said.

  “Mrs. Avery?” I turned toward the voice. A woman wearing the hotel’s uniform of a brown vest and skirt with a long-sleeved white shirt hurried from behind the front desk to us. “This came for you today,” she said and handed several papers to me.

  “Thanks,” I said.

  “Could I ask you a question?” I said quickly before she turned away. “You had a clerk working at the front desk. A young man, dark black hair. Is he here today?”

  A blank expression wiped across her face, erasing her open and helpful expression. “I’m sorry, but he’s no longer employed here.”

  “Really?” I glanced at Mitch.

  “Yes, he was let go. He won’t be back.”

  “What happened?” Mitch asked.

  She said, “I can’t discuss anything about dismissals.” She turned away and I thought I heard her say under her breath something like, “Especially when federal law enforcement is involved.”

  I raised my eyebrows at Mitch and said, “Let’s stroll by the business center.”

  When we came to the door, the room was dark and empty. The computer, printer, and phone were all gone.

  “Looks like Tony has been busy,” Mitch said.

  As we walked back to the elevators, I scanned the large swooping handwriting on the cover page of the fax.

  I read Summer’s note aloud. “‘Mom Magazine is still going to run the article. They’ve dropped Vicky and Alan Archer from the story and they’re going with a new angle, “Big Storage Solutions for Small Spaces.” See page two.’”