by Terri Reid
Mary was surprised. “But, you were married…”
“Charlie, my husband, was a good man,” she said. “And I was good to him. But you only love like I did once. I loved Charlie as much as I was able and we were happy.”
“When did you receive your last letter from Patrick?”
“About a month before…before he died,” she said, “I had been expecting one when his mother received the news about his death. I was lost for the longest time. I wanted to die too, but I knew that he would want me to go on.”
“And you met Charlie.”
“Yes, I met Charlie and it seemed like the right thing to do,” she said.
“Did you receive any of his personal effects?” Mary asked.
Linda shook her head. “No, we weren’t officially engaged or anything, so his mother received those,” she said. “Really, it was for the best.”
“How about Bob Sterling?”
Linda smiled. “Good old Bob, he was Patrick’s best friend. Actually, he looked me up once he got back home. It was great to see him again. But, by that time I was married to Charlie and I think we both felt a little uncomfortable talking about Patrick in front of him.”
“Do you see him now?”
Linda shook her head. “No, you know, I haven’t seen him for years. I really ought to try and get together with him. It would be nice to visit about old times.”
“That’s a nice idea,” Mary said. “I’m sure Patrick would have liked that.”
*****
Chapter Thirty-four
”I’m packing,” Rosie whispered to Mary as they left her house.
“You’re what?” Mary asked.
Rosie patted her large purse, “I’m packing.”
“Rosie, carrying a concealed weapon is not only illegal, it’s dangerous. You could hurt someone.”
“It’s not a gun,” Rosie replied, “It’s wasp spray.”
“What? Are you expecting some kind of insect attack?”
“No, silly, I’m surprised you don’t know this, being a former police officer and all,” she said. “I got an e-mail that said women should carry wasp spray in their purses because the stream travels a long distance and it could burn someone’s eyes.”
“Unless the wind is blowing in the wrong direction,” Mary said, “and you end up with the spray in your eyes.”
“Oh, I hadn’t thought of that,” Rosie admitted. “Well, hmmmm, I’m going to have to think of something else to protect you.”
Mary gave Rosie a quick hug. “Thank you, Rosie, but I think you just being with me is protection enough.”
Rosie pulled the large aerosol container from her purse. “Do you need any wasp spray, Mary?”
Mary looked around at the snow covered lawns and houses around her. “Well, not today,” she laughed, “but perhaps in a couple of months.”
They drove in Mary’s car to Cherokee Hills, a subdivision on the west side of Freeport. Mary parked in front of a tidy tri-level decorated for the season with blinking lights and greenery. “What did you tell her?” Mary asked Rosie as they walked up to the front porch.
“That the Historical Society might be doing something about Veterans next year and I thought of her,” Rosie said. “I was very non-committal.”
“Thank you,” Mary said. “I don’t want her to worry her son isn’t resting peacefully after all these years.”
They rang the doorbell and waited for only a moment until a pleasant elderly woman with soft white hair, sparkling grey eyes and a welcoming smile answered the door. “Hello, come in,” she said. “I’m Elaine Kenney, Patrick’s mother.”
She paused and smiled sadly. “It’s been quite a while since I introduced myself like that.”
“I hope that our being here isn’t going to cause you distress,” Mary said.
Elaine shook her head and smiled at Mary. “Oh, no, it’s about time all this got settled.”
“I beg your pardon?” Mary asked.
“Patrick has been hanging around for much too long,” she said. “It always gets worse during this time of the year. I had heard about you, my dear. So, I told Patrick that instead of moaning about it, he needed to go over and see you. I see he did.”
Mary was dumbfounded. “Yes, as a matter of fact, he did.”
Elaine smiled. “So, what do you need?”
“I need to look through his personal effects and see if I can solve this mystery.”
Elaine brought them into a sun-drenched living room filled with light-colored furniture with small floral prints. Mary and Rosie sat on the couch while Elaine opened an old chest. “This is all they sent me back,” she said and placed a worn orange-crate sized shipping box on top of her coffee table.
Mary lifted the lid and placed it down next to the box. She moved aside the aged tissue paper that held the young soldier’s final effects and carefully lifted out his dress uniform, military portrait and a box with his medals.
Underneath was an old cigar box. Mary lifted the box out, set it on the table and lifted the lid. Inside were two sets of letters, each wrapped together with a rubber band and two loose letters underneath them.
Mary looked through the first set. They were letters from home. There were letters from his mother, his father and Linda. Mary wondered if Linda would be happy to know he saved her letters.
The second set of letters was not in envelopes, they were plain white military stationary. Mary pulled one out and opened it. It was addressed to Linda.
“He must have saved copies of the letters he wrote to Linda,” Mary said.
She handed the letter to Elaine. “Why that’s strange,” Elaine said.
“What’s strange?” Rosie asked.
Elaine walked back to the chest and pulled out a square metal canister. Inside were letters, lovingly wrapped in tissue paper. Elaine pulled one out and handed it Mary. “He wrote his letters to us in different handwriting than he used when writing to Linda.”
Mary looked at the two letters. They were definitely written by someone else.
She picked up the two loose letters. One letter was written in the same handwriting as the saved letters to Linda and the other, which matched the first letter word for word, was written in Patrick’s handwriting.
“What do you think of this?” Mary asked, handing both letters to Elaine.
“Well, someone else was composing these love letters for Linda,” Elaine said.
“How do you know?” Mary asked.
Elaine handed Mary the two second pages of the letter that Mary hadn’t looked at. “Patrick hadn’t finished copying the second page yet.”
*****
Chapter Thirty-five
”Mary, what are you doing up?” Bradley asked, wiping the sleep from his eyes. “It’s three o’clock.”
“I’m waiting for someone,” she said simply, pulling the plush throw tighter around her legs. “He’ll be here soon.”
Bradley sat down next to her on the couch and yawned. “Are we waiting for Private Kenney?” he asked.
Mary nodded. “He has the most exceptional mother,” Mary said. “I’ve never met anyone quite like her.”
Bradley laid his head on the back of the couch. “I can guarantee that she’s never met anyone like you either.”
Mary turned and smiled at him. “Thanks! Would you be willing to help me with this one?”
Bradley yawned again. “Sure, what do you need?”
“Well, he’s a military guy and you were a military guy, so I figured you might communicate better with each other. Does that make sense?”
“Mary, when did things making sense enter into anything we do?”
She lightly punched his arm. “Ouch, you just damaged my wound.”
She snorted. “You are such a baby.”
The she heard the rustling in the kitchen. “Bradley, hold my hand.”
“You’re getting a little forward,” he quipped, while enveloping her hand in his.
He immediately saw the young sol
dier going through the cabinets. “Private Kenney, I presume.”
Mary nodded and they both got up and walked to the kitchen.
“Private Kenney,” Mary said.
“Ma’am,” Patrick responded. “Yes ma’am.”
“At ease soldier,” Bradley said. “I apologize for being out of uniform, young man. I’m Master Sergeant Bradley Alden, 75th Regiment.”
“A Ranger, sir?” Patrick saluted, “I’m honored.”
“No, I’m the one who’s honored,” Bradley said. “How can we help you?”
Patrick looked around the kitchen in confusion. “I lost a letter…”
Mary placed the two letters she borrowed from Elaine on the counter. “Are these the letters you were looking for?”
Patrick scanned the letters and looked up at Mary with a smile. “Yes, ma’am, these are the letters,” he said. “She needs to know. I wanted to tell her. I meant to tell her. But, then…it was too late.”
“Linda is my friend. I can tell her if you’d like.”
He nodded. “You got to tell her that I liked her and all,” he shrugged. “But I didn’t love her. Not like I should. But Bob, he loved her and never told her because she was with me.”
“Bob Sterling?” Bradley asked.
“Yes sir,” Patrick smiled. “Sterling. He was so crazy about her that he’d write her these letters that he was never going to mail. I found them, tucked under his pillow. I thought they were really great letters, so I started copying them and mailing them to her.”
“Did Bob find out?”
Patrick nodded. “He was pretty angry at first, but then he liked the idea that she would get to see his words and maybe, when he got back home we could both go and explain to her. But…”
“But you got shot and by the time Bob got home, Linda was already married.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said.
He looked at Bradley. “It’s not too late, is it sir? It’s not too late to tell Linda the truth?”
“No, you’re right; it’s never too late for a chance at love, Private.”
“You’ll tell them? Won’t you ma’am? You’ll let them know?”
“Yes, Patrick, I’ll let them know.”
He yawned. “I’m feeling pretty tired now, like I can finally rest.”
“Yes, you’ve done what you needed to do,” Mary said.
“I need to go say good-bye to my mom, she’ll be waiting up,” he said with a smile. “Then I’ll finally get transferred. Thank you.”
He saluted Mary and Bradley and faded away.
Mary wiped her eyes with her sleeve. Bradley caught her chin in his hand and looked down at her. “Hey, isn’t this the happy part because he gets to move on?” he asked, wiping a stray tear away.
She nodded. “But Elaine has to say good-bye to him all over again.”
“But won’t she be happy?”
“Sure she will, but that doesn’t make it any easier.”
Bradley put his arms around her shoulders and led her to the stairs. “Come on, you need your sleep.”
He stopped in front of her bedroom door. “Thank you for letting me help you,” he said. “Not only was it an honor to help that young soldier, it helped me understand why what you do is so important.”
He placed a kiss on her forehead. “Good-night, Mary.”
*****
Chapter Thirty-Six
Christmas was one week away and there was no sign of Kevin Brady anywhere. “I think he’s skipped the country,” Mary said. “He’s not coming to Freeport and we are not in danger.”
“You don’t know that for sure, Mary,” Sean’s voice flowed through the speaker phone into her office. “We still have a BOLO out for him throughout the Chicagoland area.”
“Sean, even with your Be-On-the-Look-Out, we can’t keep living in a state of alert,” she argued. “Poor Bradley’s been sleeping in my guest room for three weeks.”
“Hey, wait,” Bradley interrupted. “Don’t pull me into this; I’m fine with the sleeping arrangements.”
“Yeah, I’ll just bet you are,” Sean said.
“She makes breakfast for me every morning,” Bradley said. “I don’t think I’ll ever leave.”
“Listen, I can’t put my life on hold any longer,” she said. “My friends are getting tired of babysitting me and, quite frankly, I think this is all unnecessary at this point.”
I am getting way too used to having Bradley around all the time, she wanted to scream, my heart’s in far more danger than my life ever was.
Sean sighed. “Mary, we don’t know where he is. It still might not be safe.”
“Okay, how about a compromise,” she said. “I get to go to my office and work, by myself. I get to do some Christmas shopping in town, by myself. And I get to sleep, by myself.”
“She didn’t mean that the way it sounded,” Bradley interjected.
Mary blushed. “I mean, Bradley gets to sleep at his own house. But I will carry my revolver with me wherever I go. I will let someone, probably Bradley, know of my every move and I’ll carry a walkie-talkie so I can have instant communication with whoever you want me to communicate with.”
“Bradley, how do you feel about her plan?”
“Well, other than the fact I’m giving up breakfast and living with Mary,” he grinned at her, “I think she’s right. We’ve had no Brady sightings at all. All of the local law enforcement personnel have his photo, as do all of the hotels, motels and bed and breakfasts. He isn’t going to stay in the Freeport area without someone seeing him and reporting it.”
“I know you could both do whatever you want, without consulting me,” Sean said. “But I appreciate you keeping me in the loop. You’re probably right; Kevin Brady is far away from Illinois by now.”
Sean’s voice echoed from the speaker into the vacant space around Kevin Brady. He sat back and munched another French fry while he listened to the end of the conversation. “Well, Chief Alden, I’m not going to be able to stay in the Freeport area without someone seeing me?” he taunted. “So much for your psychic ability.”
He looked around the large empty building and smiled. He was sitting in the heart of downtown Freeport, in the old Rawleigh Complex, only four blocks away from Mary’s office. The 400,000 square foot brownstone complex consisted of four large buildings that had once housed manufacturing, warehousing, laboratory, and office floor space for the production of infamous Rawleigh medical products.
Abandoned in 1988, the large structure sat unoccupied, like a ghost town waiting for new habitation. Its windows were broken, its brick facade cracked and its floors littered with the forgotten refuse of yesterday. Brochures touting wonder drugs like anti-pain oil, camphor balm, liniments, and cough syrup were still scattered on the floor. Chemical labs still held residues of past experiments. Conveyor systems still threaded their way through the buildings.
Although cold and drafty, the Rawleigh Building had been the perfect place to set up shop. The upper floors in the tallest building had windows that were still intact, yet were far enough up that any noise would be undetected. His generator not only provided heat, it allowed him to run the other electronic devices necessary to his plan.
The tap had been easy enough. Mary had left her office unused for several weeks. No one paid any attention to a service man making some upgrades to the lines behind the building. He looked at the monitor in front of him. The camera he installed right outside Mary’s office allowed him to see whatever went on inside. He had to bide his time until just the right moment.
He opened the plastic container, dabbed his finger in the white powder and rubbed it on his gums. Sitting back, he smiled while the cocaine entered his system. He could feel the heat building between his legs while he watched Mary move around her office. He imagined what it was going to be like once he had her under his control. Oh, yeah, she is going to enjoy what I have planned for her, but not nearly as much as I am going to enjoy it.
*****
Chapter
Thirty-seven
”It’s Tuesday,” Mary said into the phone, “It’s shop late ‘til eight night and it’s three days until Christmas. Lots of people will be downtown. I’ll be just fine.”
“I don’t feel good about this Mary,” Bradley responded. “I have to go into Rockford for a meeting tonight and I won’t be back until after ten.”
“Bradley, I appreciate your concern, but I’m going to be fine. Kevin is not in Freeport. Sean called me this morning and said someone thought they saw him in L.A. He’s a long way from here.”
