by K. M. Hodge
Scott’s fingers pressed into the deep creases on his forehead.
Before he could respond, one of the staffers knocked and opened the door. “Senator, you’re needed on the floor.”
He swore under his breath. “Yeah, give me five minutes, Diane.”
When the door closed again, Scott turned back to Charles. “I have to go. I’ll call them and see what they suggest, and let you know later... tonight.”
Charles stood and put the pictures back into his pocket while Scott put on his rumpled jacket.
At the office door, Scott turned with one hand on the knob and said, “Meet me at Old Ebbitt Grill on 15th Street around nine. I’ll text if this runs over.”
Charles nodded and lifted his hand to salute him, his voice filled with disdain. “Sure thing, Senator.”
Scott glowered at him, then turned on his heels and headed out the door.
Charles fingered the guest pass clipped to his jacket. He walked through the halls, worrying over the meeting tonight. One of the photos was a temporary insurance policy against Scott and his goons, but he had nothing to protect himself from Sara, who posed the greatest threat to both men. Yet Scott wouldn’t want her around for long now that he knew she had physical evidence that connected him to The Syndicate.
***
Church Hill Neighborhood
Richmond, Virginia
June 6, 2008
8:45 PM
~~~
Alex coordinated arrangements with Brian and some colleagues to fly out to Chicago, and secured temporary housing for him and Katherine. After he had finished getting his ducks in a row, he tried Doc on her cell one more time.
It went straight to voicemail.
His flight wasn’t until the next morning, so he jumped in his car and drove over to Doc’s house. If she wouldn’t pick up, then he would force the issue face-to-face. He didn’t want to leave town for an indefinite amount of time without making things right between them.
As he pulled up in front of the house, the front door opened and her husband, Chris, walked out. Alex got out of the car and met him halfway up the walk.
“I don’t know what you did, but she’s really upset. She said she doesn’t want to talk to you.”
Alex shrugged. “I fucked up, Chris.”
Chris snorted. “No shit, B. What did you do? She’s not talking. If you tell me, maybe I can help you out.”
He followed Chris over to the stoop and sat down beside him. He needed a cigarette for this, so he fished one out and lit up. After taking a long drag, he explained the long and the short of what had happened in Doc’s office.
Chris shook his head. “Jesus, Bailey!”
He groaned in embarrassment. “I know! I know! I didn’t mean to hurt her. I was upset and didn’t think about what I was saying.”
Chris took the cigarette from Alex and took a hit.
Alex let him have it and pulled out another for himself.
“B-man, there is something you should know.... Ellie’s pregnant.”
Alex hung his head in shame. “Oh shit.”
Chris nodded as he took another hit from the cigarette. “The doctors didn’t want her getting pregnant again, but you know Ellie.” He puffed his cigarette and blew it out the corner of his mouth. “She wants a baby so bad that it’s all she thinks about. Now that she’s pregnant, she’s terrified of losing this one too. She’s lost her damn mind.”
Alex took long, slow inhalations of his cigarette, drawing the smoke deep into his lungs. He thought of the first baby she had lost in Iraq, when she had almost died and had been so depressed that she hadn’t gotten out of bed for weeks afterwards.
“You need to make this right, B. We’re boys and all, but I don’t have your back in this fight.”
He whined in frustration. “I’m trying, man, believe me, but I’m leaving town tomorrow morning to meet up with Katherine, and I don’t know how long I’ll be gone. That’s why I stopped by tonight.”
Chris regarded him with a coy smile. “So tell me about this girl that has you all wound up tight like a hairpin trigger.”
Alex blew a plume of smoke up into the night sky as he let himself think of Katherine. “She’s beautiful, smart, funny, and makes me want to be a better man.” He smiled, a little shy admitting his feelings out loud. “I think I might love her.”
“God, women make us crazy.”
Alex chuckled in agreement.
Chris took another long drag of the cigarette and blew the smoke off to the side. “I remember when I first met Ellie. I thought I would have a heart attack every time she walked in the room. All through basic, I followed her around like a lovesick puppy. It’s a good thing she took pity on this poor man,” he said with a small smile.
Alex laughed and stretched out his long lanky legs onto the steps.
Chris grew serious. “I’m sorry about your girl, man. If that had been Ellie, I... fuck, I don’t know, man. I don’t even want to think about that.” He put out the cigarette in one of Ellie’s potted plants.
Alex nodded, sucking in his lower lip to stop the tears that threatened to fall. “Yeah,” he said, his voice quivering.
His dear friend stood up and put his hand on Alex’s shoulder. “Wait here, man. I’ll see if I can get her to come out. No promises, though. She may just want your sorry ass to sit out here in this Godforsaken heat like a dog. She’s crazy like that, but you already know.”
“I hear ya, man. Thanks.” He watched his friend go back inside to try and fight for his cause.
He sat on the steps, smoking and looking up at the blinking lights of a plane flying overhead. The sun had set and dusk had begun to set in, and he couldn’t help but reminisce about the earlier years of his friendship with the Foresters. He loved them so much that it hurt, and the thought of losing his friendship with Doc was more than he could bear.
An hour after Chris went back inside, he was startled by the sound of the front door opening and closing. He put out his cigarette and waved the smoke away.
Doc walked down the steps to the bottom one and sat down beside him. Her sharp shoulder knocked hard into his.
When the second blow never came, he turned to her and spoke from his heart. “Ellie, I’m sorry. I’m a total fucked-up asshole and you have every right to be mad at me.”
Doc stared at her feet and clasped her hands over her knees.
He reached out and covered her hands with his. “You know I love you, Doc. I’m going to miss you. I hate that I’m leaving with things like this.” His tear-filled eyes sought hers out, but she turned her head away from him. He squeezed her hands again. “I want you to be happy. Chris told me about the baby.” He paused for a moment. “I hope you get that happiness this time around.”
She turned towards him, her face streaked with tears. “I want you to be happy too, Alex, and if she makes you happy then you should go to her. Life is too short and full of too much sadness to not snatch up every little bit of happiness you can get.”
Alex put his arms around her shoulders and hugged her to him tighter than usual. They sat for a long time in silence, looking up at the stars and contemplating everything that lay in front of them. Alex wondered if either of them would get the happy ending they sought.
Chapter 10
Knettle Creek Cabin
Millburo, Virginia
June 7, 2008
6:00 AM
~~~
Jason parked his truck along the interstate and walked several miles up the familiar path to a rustic cabin beside a large pond. The long walk helped him clear his mind and calm his tense body, which had been on red alert for days. His heavy-footed stride crunched the brush underfoot, alerting his grandfather’s golden retriever to his arrival.
The dog came traipsing across the yard to greet him. The old boy was getting on in years.
“Hey Bobo.” The dog walked by his side up to the door of the ramshackle cabin, where an old, stout Irish man stood in the doorframe.
“Howyiz,” the man called out in the traditional Irish greeting.
Jason waved. “Hello, Daideo! ”
His grandfather motioned for him to come inside. “Come in, lad, I’ve got a pot on.”
Jason shuffled his feet at the doormat, scraping away the dirt and other outdoor detritus he had accumulated on his long walk. Once inside, he felt right at home.
Bobo circled the braided rug by the fireplace three times before plopping down.
The cabin and his grandfather, his only living relative, had always had a way of centering him. He slumped down onto a beat-up old wooden chair he had sat in since he was a little boy, and kicked off his shoes. The memories of days spent in the cabin as a child warmed him and brought him the comfort he needed.
His hands brushed the scarred wooden kitchen table where he had watched his grandfather and Amice play many games of chess and reminisce about their service in Korea. A well-worn chessboard sat off to the side on top of a pile of books. Perhaps Amice told his grandfather what had happened.
His quiet grandfather shuffled about in silence between the stove, counter and refrigerator preparing mashers—a traditional Irish breakfast.
The sound of Jason’s stomach grumbling broke the comfortable silence between the two men. He couldn’t remember the last time he had something homemade, let alone a large, rich, traditional homemade meal like the one being prepared.
While the food was cooking, his grandfather placed a chipped teacup in front of Jason. The aroma of Irish tea—Lyons, his favorite—steeping in a small teapot at the center of the table was a balm to his battered soul. He carefully poured the rich, heavy tea into the cup, and inhaled deeply the comforting aroma.
“This is amazing,” he said with a smile.
His grandfather grunted in response, and Jason sighed. It had been a long time since he had genuinely smiled, felt relaxed.... Fuck! He raked his fingers across his face and through his hair before taking a sip of his tea. When he set it back down on the table, he rested his head in his open palm. So tired.
He sat there half asleep until the sound of his plate being placed in front of him startled him awake. As tired as he was, he was even hungrier. He couldn’t help himself, and dug into the food as if it would be his last meal.
His grandfather chuckled. “You need a good Irish girl to feed you, lad. You’re disappearing.”
Jason laughed, his mouth full of mashers and eggs. “I won’t argue with you there, Daideo.”
After he had cleared his plate and had seconds, his grandfather set him up in the guest room where he had slept as a child during summer visits. His grandfather covered him with a wool blanket, which his great grandmother had made when his grandfather still lived in Ireland. His head barely hit the pillow before he was asleep.
***
Holy Cross Hospital
Just outside Richmond, Virginia
June 7, 2008
Noon
~~~
Katherine lay motionless in her hospital bed thinking about the session she had just had with her social worker, Ed. She had told him all the things she thought he wanted to hear, but like most depressed people, her efforts to conceal her true feelings were transparent. She felt like an open, festering wound that would never heal.
Someone stood guard outside her room the entire time.
Suicide watch. This is what it has come to.
A nurse came in with a paper cup and a glass of water. “Ms. Mitchel, I have a little something to help you sleep.”
Katherine’s hackles rose, and a scream of protest escaped through her cracked and bruised mouth. She thrashed away from the nurse, tangling herself in her IV line.
The nurse stepped back and called for help.
“Noooooo,” she cried.
She didn’t stop until her Ed appeared. “Ms. Mitchel, you don’t have to take anything you don’t want to take. You’re in control. Do you hear me? You’re in control right now.” He repeated the phrase over and over until it started to sink in.
When his words reached the language centers of her brain, she began to calm down.
“Katherine, you are safe here,” he assured her.
She shook her head. “I will never be safe.” She sniffed back a sob. “Not here, not anywhere.”
***
Knettle Creek Cabin
Millburo, Virginia
June 7, 2008
Noon
~~~
Jason ran a finger along the dusty jackets of his grandfather’s books. Daideo was a renowned author, having published more than thirty books, both fiction and nonfiction, about the war. The whole of his grandfather’s life’s work, spread out before him, humbled and inspired him in equal measure. He dreamed about quitting his job and writing what he wanted to write.
Fucking paper! Fucking father leaving it to me!
He leaned his forehead against the bookcase and closed his eyes, hoping to gain some wisdom through osmosis.
His grandfather came up behind him and put a hand on his shoulder, leading him to the chairs. “What’s the craic?” he asked in his native Gaelic.
Jason smiled. “Daideo, I don’t know if you heard this or not, but my life is a giant mess.”
They sat down across from one another. His grandfather rested his arms on his knees as he leaned in towards Jason. The fingers of his hands came together to form a triangle.
“What’s wrong?”
“What’s wrong?” Jason parroted back with his elbows resting easily on his knees. “Everything.” Tears stung his eyes, but he was too proud to cry in front of his grandfather.
“A stor.”
Jason smiled a little at the familiar term of endearment, ‘my treasure.’
His grandfather rose from his seat and sat down beside Jason on the love seat. “Your Mam, God rest her soul.” The old man paused to reflexively do the sign of the cross in deference to Jason’s mother, who had passed away when Jason was a young boy. “Go mbeadh do mháthair mhaith leat a bheith sásta.” He often slipped into Gaelic when he became emotional.
Jason sighed. “I know she’d want me to be happy, but I don’t know how to be happy anymore.”
His grandfather cleared his throat and wet his lips. He was a quiet man by nature, and would wait for Jason to tell the whole of it before responding.
“I’ve gotten myself caught up in this mess with Katherine and some criminal organization. I hate my job. I’m lonely. And I am more than a little afraid I’m going to end up getting myself killed like my old man.” Jason felt a little bit lighter now that he had spoken the truth out loud.
He chuckled as a single tear slid down his cheek. “I don’t know what to do.”
His grandfather squeezed his hand. “There is nothing so bad, that couldn’t be worse, my Mam use to say.”
Jason nodded and squeezed his grandfather’s hand back. “Daideo, I think this is as bad as it gets.” He didn’t want to think about how it could get any worse.
His cell phone buzzed in his pants pocket—an unwelcome intrusion—making him jump. He pulled up the text message from a Brian Williams of the Federal Marshal’s Office in Chicago, and cursed under his breath. His heart dropped.
“I’m sorry, I have to go.”
He bent and kissed his grandfather on the cheek, and rushed out the door. In record time he jogged the long walk back his parked truck.
On the way to the hospital, he used his Bluetooth and called the Federal Marshal’s office to get more information on the severity of the situation at hand.
***
Holy Cross Hospital
Just outside Richmond, Virginia
June 7, 2008
2:00 PM
~~~
Katherine sat in the wheelchair and waited for the nurse to bring her the discharge paperwork. The faxes and court orders sticking out of her medical file made it possible for her to leave against doctors’ orders. She couldn’t wait to leave. Her legs shook with anticipation, her body flooded with a constant stream
of adrenaline.
During her stay at the hospital, madness moved in and made itself at home in her mind. It filled her with dark and dangerous thoughts. She was overwhelmed by the pervasive urge to slice open her arm just to see if she would still bleed. The small bit of logic that remained in her cautioned her against such a drastic science experiment.
She knew that just one misstep would ensure a longer stay at the hospital, court order or not, so she kept her madness in check and constructed a formidable wall that kept everyone at bay—especially Jason and his pity.
The concern from the nurses, doctors, and Jason were too much for her to bear. It managed to lacerate what was left of her dignity.
A sympathetic nurse handed her the discharge paperwork, and she suffered further. When she had finished signing the paperwork, Jason popped into the room. He was going to drive her to some place in Illinois, where they were going to meet with Brian, the Federal Marshal in charge of her case.
They had explained this to her that morning over a phone conference, but she had been only half listening. She was beginning to feel more like a rag doll, carelessly dragged from one place to the next by those directing her life, causing her stitches to pull at the seams.
Jason took control of the wheelchair and helped her into the car.
She wanted to slap him, to make him feel as worthless as she felt. Instead, she acted as limp as the rag doll she had become.
He assisted her into the car without comment or complaint.
***
Metro Station-Chinatown
Washington, D.C.
June 7, 2008
7:00 PM
~~~
The intersection bustled with people getting on and off the metro. No one gave him a moment’s notice, even though he had on a sweatshirt—in the middle of a heat wave—with the hood obscuring his face. The orders had come in earlier that morning, and the plan was set in motion.
The higher-ups had intercepted a message she had sent her handler. She had been reluctant to come forward, but by the end of the call had agreed to a meeting at Langley—a tentative deal had been struck.
Even though she would be taking the eight o’clock train, he arrived early, not wanting to take any chances. His heart raced in his chest and his breath came in short gasps. He reminded himself that he needed to do this in order to save his own skin. She was a cornered animal that would strike out at the closest person to her, and that was him.
