Familiar Stranger

by Sharon Sala

“That’s all right, baby. Go ahead and cry. Lord knows you’ve earned a few tears after the morning you’ve had.” He set her on the side of her bed and began helping her take off her bloodstained clothes. “There was a time or two when I felt like crying, myself.”

  She hiccuped on a sob and tossed her bloodstained bra onto the floor. Gently, he cupped the side of her face, wincing at the bruising already taking effect.

  “The son of a bitch,” he muttered, and then kissed her there. “If I could, I would have killed him twice.”

  She sighed and leaned forward until their foreheads were touching.

  “Oh, David, if you hadn’t come back for me when you did, today would have been the day I died.”

  He shuddered. “Don’t! Don’t play that if game. It’ll make you crazy. I know.”

  She wrapped her arms around his neck and hugged him fiercely.

  “Before today, I hated what the government had done to you, but now…”

  A sad smile came and went. He knew what she meant. He and Cara had been cheated out of a normal life, but because he knew how to kill, he’d saved her—saved them all—to live another day.

  “Let’s get the rest of these bloody clothes off of you,” he said. “Can you stand on your own in the shower, or do you want to take a bath?”

  “Shower, please, and yes, I can stand.”

  When she dropped the last article of her clothing in the pile on the floor, she kicked it aside with her toe.

  “Throw them away.”

  “All of them?” he asked.

  She nodded. “I don’t ever want to wear them again.”

  He gathered them up in his arms and started for the door, then hesitated.

  “Cara?”

  “What?”

  “The clothes will wash.”

  “But I—”

  The despair on his face confused her, then suddenly she understood. David not only had blood on his clothes, but blood on his hands. And if she was so disgusted by something as inconsequential as bloody clothes, then what must she think of a man who had shed blood?

  She made herself smile. “You’re right. I just overreacted. Besides, those are my favorite slacks. Maybe if you just tossed them in the washing machine in cold water and let them soak for a while?”

  A rare smile of approval appeared on his face, before he turned and walked away.

  A couple of hours later, they were in the kitchen eating some sandwiches David had made for them when the phone began to ring.

  Cara looked at David.

  “Want me to answer?” he asked.

  She sighed. No use running from something she would inevitably have to face.

  “No, I’ll get it, but thanks anyway.”

  She picked up the portable, eyeing the caller ID screen, then rolled her eyes.

  “Hello.”

  “Oh, my God, Cara, we just heard.”

  “Hello, Debra. Looks like news travels fast.”

  “Are you serious? It isn’t gossip, honey! The whole thing is on the news.”

  “Now?” Cara asked.

  “Yes, now.”

  “The television,” Cara whispered, pointing to the living room. “Debra says the incident is on TV.”

  David bolted for the living room. Cara followed, still talking to her friend. To her dismay, she realized it wasn’t a local news show, but a national network broadcasting live from the scene, where police were still working the area. She quickly disconnected and then slipped into the seat beside David.

  “This isn’t good, is it?” she asked.

  “They don’t have any tape of us. It should be all right.”

  At that moment, someone blurted out his name.

  “Oh, no,” Cara moaned.

  David’s expression darkened perceptibly. She was right. It wasn’t good. Even though there were probably thousands of David Wilsons in the United States, there wouldn’t be many who could have pulled off the rescue of eleven hostages single-handed. Hooray for the training he’d received at SPEAR and to hell with any anonymity he might have hoped to retain. When she clutched his hand, he slipped an arm around her and pulled her close, shoving all thoughts of Simon from his mind.

  Less than ten minutes later, the phone rang again. This time, Cara handed the phone to David with a pleading expression.

  David took it unwillingly.

  “You could unplug the phone,” he said.

  “Please?”

  He smiled, then answered.

  “Justice residence.”

  “Is this David?”

  He flinched. He’d only heard her voice once, but it was as firmly etched in his mind now as was Cara’s face.

  “Bethany?”

  “Yes! We just saw the news about the supermarket in Chiltingham being robbed.”

  “Yes, so did we,” David said. “Here’s your mother.”

  “Thanks. Oh, David…”

  “Yes?”

  “Nice talking to you.”

  He found himself smiling. “Nice talking to you, too, honey.”

  He handed the phone to Cara and then started to get up and give her some privacy, but she grabbed his hand and pulled him back down beside her.

  “Hello?” Cara said. “Bethany, darling, how are you?”

  “We’re all fine,” she said. “I just had to call, though. It was so weird, seeing our little hometown on the evening news. Isn’t it awful? They said someone was shot. Do you know who?”

  “Yes, it was Margie Weller, the Methodist pastor’s wife.”

  Bethany gasped. “How horrible! Was it serious? Is she going to be all right?”

  “Yes, it was terribly frightening, but last word we had, she was in surgery and her prognosis was good.”

  “Thank goodness,” Bethany said. “I guess you never know about things like this, but who would have thought it could happen at home, right?”

  “Right,” Cara said.

  “They said there were eleven hostages and some guy named Wilson saved them all.”

  “Yes, he did,” Cara said, wanting so badly to tell Bethany that it was her own father who’d been the hero that day. But telling her something like that over a phone was unconscionable.

  “Is he new to the force?” Bethany asked.

  “He isn’t a member of the police force.”

  There was a moment of silence and then suddenly Bethany’s questions took on the feel of an inquisition.

  “Mother, is there something you aren’t telling me?”

  Cara sighed. “Everything is fine. We’ll talk about it when you get home.”

  “Mother! Please God, don’t tell me you were there?”

  Cara’s hesitation was enough to send Bethany into hysterics. She could hear her daughter screaming at her husband on the other end of the line. She looked at David and rolled her eyes.

  David patted her leg. “It’s to be expected, honey. It would be enough to scare the hell out of anyone, never mind that it’s your mother.”

  “I guess,” Cara said, then put the phone back to her ear. Bethany was shouting her name. “Yes, darling, I’m still here. Are you through screaming?”

  Bethany was crying now. “Mother, my God…are you all right?”

  “I’m fine.”

  Bethany moaned. “I can’t believe this.”

  Cara tried to laugh, but it sounded awkward, even to her. “I know how you feel. It’s a bit hard for us to believe and we were there.”

  There was a long moment of silence on the other end of the line and then Bethany spoke.

  “He was there, too?”

  “By he, I suppose you mean David? Oh, yes. Actually, he’s the man of the hour in Chiltingham. I wouldn’t be surprised if they name a street after him.”

  Now David was the one rolling his eyes.

  “Is he the one they’re talking about…the man who saved all of you?”

  “Yes.”

  “I want to speak to him,” Bethany said.

  “Just a minute,” Cara said, then
covered the mouthpiece with her hand and looked at David. “She wants to talk to you.”

  David nodded, gearing himself for the sweet sound of her voice.

  “Bethany, I promise your mother is fine.”

  At first she didn’t answer and he thought he could hear her crying.

  “Honey…are you there?”

  “David, whoever you are, I just want to tell you that I’m so sorry for everything I first thought about you, and I will never be able to thank you enough for saving Mother’s life.”

  “You’re welcome,” he said softly, and heard her sigh.

  “I want to apologize to you,” she said.

  He smiled. “For what?”

  “For thinking you were some kind of con man who was after my mother’s money. It’s not like she’s rich or anything, but she has her home and Dad’s retirement and…well…you know what I mean.”

  It hurt to hear the word Dad come out of her mouth and know she was referring to Ray Justice, but it was a title Ray had earned.

  “I understand, and I don’t care that your mother doesn’t have a lot of money, because I do, okay?”

  Cara’s mouth dropped. “What on earth is she saying to you?” she whispered.

  “She thought I was a con man after your money,” David said.

  “Oh, my word,” Cara muttered. “Give me that phone.” She took it out of David’s hand with a yank. “Bethany Gail, you might be an adult, but you will never get old enough to question my behavior, is that understood?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “All right then,” Cara muttered. “As long as we understand each other on that count.”

  “We’re coming home a day early,” Bethany said. “We’ll see you tomorrow sometime after noon. Our plane is due in at Canandaigua around ten in the morning.”

  Cara hesitated. “Well, I’ll be glad when you get home, but please don’t shorten your vacation on my account.”

  “Mother, after this, do you think any of us could find a way to forget what happened to you and have fun? We want to come home…all of us.”

  “Then come,” Cara said. “And have a safe trip.”

  “We will,” she said, then added, “tell David goodbye for me.”

  “Tell him yourself,” Cara said. She handed the phone back to David.

  “Hello?”

  “David, thanks again.”

  He smiled. “You’re welcome.”

  Then she added, “David?”

  “Yes?”

  “I’m looking forward to meeting you.”

  He sighed and closed his eyes. “I’m looking forward to meeting you, too.”

  “Well…goodbye then.”

  “Yes, honey. Goodbye.”

  The line went dead in his ear. He handed the phone to Cara and then took her in his arms.

  “My God, I don’t think I’ve ever been this scared in my life, except maybe when that bastard put his gun in your face. Not even in Nam. She has every right to hate me.”

  “She doesn’t have a right to hate anyone,” Cara said. “She didn’t do without a single thing in her entire life. She was loved from the moment of her birth, by both Ray and me. She had loving grandparents on both sides, and siblings, as well. She has known all her life that Ray Justice was her adoptive father. Knowing that you’re still alive will be just as big a joy for her as it was for me.”

  “Swear?” David asked.

  “I swear.”

  He smiled, and then leaned back on the sofa, eyeing the woman who’d given him something he thought he’d never have again—hope.

  “You remember this morning…before we got to town?”

  She grinned. “You mean when you proposed? Yes, I remember it, so don’t think you can change your mind now.”

  “I don’t want to change my mind. I want to make sure you don’t change yours,” he said, and then pulled the little velvet box out of his pocket and got down on one knee.

  Suddenly, Cara was looking at him through a blur of tears.

  “Oh, David.”

  “This is where I went when I let you off at the store. You know I have to leave again, but I pray it won’t be for long. I love you so much, and I owe you so much. A war cheated us out of a lot and I want to give you everything, all at once. I can’t make any guarantees about the future, so you’ll have to settle for just this, right now.”

  Her hand was shaking when he slid the ring on her finger.

  “It fits,” she said, more than a little surprised.

  “Yeah, I’m a pretty good judge of things like that.”

  She shook her head and then threw her arms around his neck. “You’re good at a lot more than that,” she said. “I can’t wait for the day when we can start living our life…for us.”

  “Me, too. Do you want to—”

  Before he could finish, the doorbell rang. Cara jumped at the noise and then glanced at the clock. It was after nine. Surely it wasn’t well-wishing friends coming this late?

  “I’ll get it,” David said, and then strode to the door.

  It was Detective Foster. Then he looked past Foster to the two dark-suited men behind him and sighed.

  “Gentlemen, come in. I’ve been expecting you.”

  Chapter 10

  Robert Foster glared at David as he stepped inside. He was still sweating from the unexpected confrontation he’d just had with these two federal agents.

  All he’d done was what he’d been hired to do, which was investigate crimes. He’d entered the serial numbers from David’s gun into the computer, and then proceeded to finish his report while he’d waited for the program to run.

  Half an hour later, two strangers in suits had walked into the room as if they owned the place. Flashing their badges, they tossed him a hard copy of the file he’d sent through NCIC and demanded he bring them to the man who owned the gun.

  Now, here he was, still reeling from being treated like an underling. No courtesy from one officer to another. No nothing. He didn’t like it. He didn’t like it one damned bit.

  He turned back to the agents, still pissed and glaring. “Happy now?”

  They looked at David, comparing this man’s physical description against the one they’d been given. They didn’t know who the hell he was, but when they got orders direct from the President, they knew enough to respond without question. Convinced that they had their man, one of them stepped forward and handed David his gun while Detective Foster continued to fume.

  “You knew this would happen, didn’t you?” he said, giving David a share of his anger.

  “Knew what?” David asked, eyeing the two men who followed Foster inside.

  The detective turned, waving his hand toward his uninvited escorts.

  “That Tweedledee and Tweedledum would show up and try to eat me for dinner.”

  David stifled a grin. The man’s description of the two men who were with him was funny, but it wasn’t in his best interests to laugh.

  “They don’t bite,” David said, and then added, “Unless maybe if I asked them to.”

  The federal agents looked surprised as their curiosity grew, but they knew better than to voice it.

  Foster was over his head and he knew it. He threw up his hands in defeat.

  “Look, I don’t know what’s going on here, and I’m thinking it would be in my best interests not to ask.”

  “Cara said you were bright,” David said.

  Foster shifted nervously. “You’re someone special, aren’t you?” Then he shrugged. “Hell…I already knew that when you walked into the supermarket and took down three armed men. What I’m trying to say is…you have that damned gun back, and whoever you are, it’s been a pleasure meeting you.”

  David shook the young detective’s hand. “Likewise.”

  “David, is everything all right?”

  All of them turned, acknowledging Cara’s arrival into their midst.

  “Mrs. Justice, I trust you’re feeling better?” Foster asked.

  �
�Much.” Then she looked at the two men accompanying the detective. “Detective Foster, are you going to introduce your friends?”

  “If I knew their names, I might,” he muttered.

  “They’re here for me,” David said.

  It was the quiet, resolute tone in his voice that made her heart sink. She turned to David, silently begging him to deny what she feared. To her dismay, he shook his head.

  “It will be okay,” he said. At that moment, the two agents stepped forward, one of them handing David a phone.

  “Sir, I’m Federal Agent Thomas Ryan, and this is Agent Patrick O’Casey. In less than a minute, the President will be calling you. We have instructions to await your orders.”

  Cara gasped and Detective Foster muttered, “Lord have mercy,” beneath his breath.

  Seconds later, the phone David was holding rang. He answered abruptly.

  “Sir?”

  “I must say, when you take a leave of absence, you don’t do it quietly, do you, son?”

  David almost relaxed. He’d expected a dressing down for getting mixed up in public matters.

  “It was a choice I made. I would do the same thing again,” he said.

  “And I would expect you to,” the President replied. “Now to more important matters. Our people have been monitoring your old contact station. You are receiving e-mail from the quarry.”

  One moment David’s face was animated and the next expressionless. Cara shivered. It was like looking at a stranger. She took a step backward, unconsciously distancing herself from the fear that came with it.

  “Sir, I’m assuming this line is secure.”

  A soft chuckle rippled in David’s ear. “Yes. Feel free to speak your piece.”

  “The messages, what do they say?”

  “He wants a meeting.”

  David pivoted sharply and walked into the other room alone.

  “Can you see that he gets an answer?” David asked.

  “Just a minute, son, I’m putting someone else on. Tell him what you want sent. It will get done.”

  “Yes, sir, thank you, sir.”

  Seconds later, another voice was on the line. It didn’t matter to David who it was. If the President had him standing by, then he was okay.

  “Ready to transmit,” the voice said.

  “Just tell him…Washington D.C.”

  “Got it. Anything else?”