In Shadows

by Sharon Sala

  “Not long now,” Paul said.

  “Good,” Jack replied, and then leaned back against the headrest and closed his eyes.

  Paul could almost believe Dude was actually resting, except for the white-knuckle grip he had on his seat belt. About five minutes later, he took an off-ramp, pulled up to the first stop sign and then turned right. Dude didn’t bother to look up.

  “I’m so damn sorry,” Paul muttered.

  “No way, man. I’m alive because of you guys. I can take all kinds of pain to stay that way.”

  Paul just kept driving, making no apologies for the occasional rough spot on the streets, or the number of turns he had to take to get home, but when they finally pulled up into his driveway, Paul exhaled softly.

  “We’re here,” he said. “Sit tight. I’ll come help you out,” he said.

  Jack waited.

  A couple of minutes later, they were inside the house. Paul locked the door behind him before turning on lights, then put his arm around Dude’s waist. “Walk with me,” he said. “My spare bedroom with its own bathroom is at the end of this hall.”

  Jack couldn’t see how far the hall went because he was too busy focusing on putting one foot in front of the other.

  Paul turned on lights as they went, and when they reached the last door at the end of the short hall, he swung it inward and turned on the lights.

  “Take a seat in the easy chair while I turn down the bed. The sheets are clean because I don’t have company, so there’s that.”

  Jack eased himself down and then leaned forward and put his head between his knees to keep from passing out.

  Paul yanked back the covers, then rushed over to where he’d left Dude and quickly pulled off his boots and then the borrowed Kick Some Ass T-shirt from Muncy.

  “I’ll get your pants off as soon as you get to the side of the bed,” Paul said. “Now, put your arm around my neck and I’ll help you stand.”

  Jack was moving on autopilot but managed to do as he was told. When he got to the side of the bed, Paul unsnapped the jeans and then pushed them down to his knees.

  “Sit down and lean back,” Paul said, and as soon as Jack’s butt hit the mattress, Paul swung Jack’s legs onto the mattress and then pulled the jeans the rest of the way off. “Okay, Dude, is there anything you need before I leave you to rest?”

  “Water,” Jack said.

  “On the way,” Paul said, and ran out of the room. Dude had already stretched out on the bed when he got back, but Paul helped Dude sit up enough so that he could drink, then set the glass on the bedside table and eased him back down onto the pillows.

  “My room is up one door and across the hall. I’m leaving my door open, so if you need anything in the night, just yell out. I’m a really light sleeper.”

  “Thanks, man,” Jack whispered.

  “No problem,” Paul said, and then turned on the small lamp on the table beside an old, white rocking chair and turned out the overhead lights as he left.

  Jack’s head was spinning. Every time he closed his eyes, it felt like he was falling, but he paced his breathing and managed to slow down the rapid pace of his heart until he finally fell asleep.

  But sleep wasn’t restful. The Novocain hyped his dream state to the point that it became nightmares. He kept dreaming of Shelly calling out to him, but he didn’t know where she was, and he couldn’t move.

  When she started crying, he woke and reached out to comfort her. Then he remembered where he was.

  He also knew what he was doing by staying hidden.

  He was breaking her heart.

  * * *

  Charlie went home at sundown when the dive crews quit for the day. He already had the word from headquarters via a message from Fred that they’d finish out the grid search tomorrow, and if nothing popped, it would be called off. His guilt was at an all-time high. Never in his career had he felt more responsible for what had happened. Jack had depended on them—on him—and they’d all failed him. He was already facing the fact that most everyone believed Jack’s body had drifted out to sea with the outgoing tide.

  His steps were dragging when he walked in the door, but seeing Alicia coming toward him with her arms outstretched, and feeling the baby bump between them, was the healing he needed.

  “I’m so sorry, darling,” Alicia said. “Does Shelly know anything?”

  “No, but all of the news coverage and the fact that Jack isn’t calling probably has her scared to death. I don’t know how I’m going to tell her. I can’t believe this is even happening. I feel so damn responsible.”

  “No, Charlie, no. How many times have you talked about the dangers attached to your job—and you aren’t even doing undercover work! Jack accepted the risks that came with his position and it was his choice. He chose that. No one forced him into the life.”

  Charlie hugged her. “Thank you, baby. I needed to hear that.”

  Alicia slipped out of his arms, then put his hand on her belly. “Feel that? Your son hears your voice. He’s glad Daddy is home.”

  Charlie broke into a big smile. “I can’t wait to meet this little guy.”

  “Me, either. We’re going to be great parents. Now come with me into the kitchen. Dinner is almost ready and I decanted your favorite wine.”

  Charlie thought about the list of bills in his office that he needed to pay, but he couldn’t resist her offer. “You’re singing my song,” he said, and followed her and the enticing aromas.

  * * *

  Jack eventually woke to the scent of brewing coffee drifting into his room. He remembered enough to know not to roll over on his shoulder and managed to sit up and then swing his legs off the side of the bed. Almost immediately, the vertigo hit again, but he stayed where he was until it passed, then got up and made his way to the bathroom. When he came out, there was a pair of gym shorts on the bed.

  He eyed the sling Muncy had put on him, but since he didn’t have any broken bones and it was limiting to his mobility, he opted to leave it off as he sat down to dress. He broke out in a shaky sweat as he bent over to put on the shorts and had to rest before he got them as far up as his knees. Now he was going to have to stand to finish the job.

  He was still dizzy as he tried to get up, so he leaned the back of his legs against the bed to steady himself until he could get the shorts up where they belonged.

  “Damn good thing I wasn’t trying to get those jeans on by myself,” he muttered, and then reached for Muncy’s ass-kicking shirt. The fact that it was oversize was lucky, or he would never have been able to get it on by himself.

  His hair was a work in progress. He’d either have to accept the wild man look or ask for help to get it tied into a ponytail. He wanted a cup of coffee in the worst way, so he slowly made his way out of the room. He’d barely made it a few steps down the hall before wondering how far he could get without passing out.

  Fortunately for him, Paul showed up.

  “Well, damn, Dude. Looking good here. Need a shoulder to lean on?”

  Jack nodded.

  Paul was considerably shorter, but it was to Jack’s advantage and he used his shoulders for a crutch and made it to the kitchen, where he finally sat.

  “Okay?” Paul asked.

  Jack nodded again, too winded and in enough pain he didn’t want to talk about it.

  “Coffee coming up. How do you take it?” Paul asked.

  “Black, and if I haven’t already said it, thank you for all of this.”

  “It’s all good, Dude. Here’s your coffee. I’m not much of a cook, but I do breakfasts pretty good. Want eggs fried or scrambled?”

  “I’ll eat them however you make them,” Jack said, and tested the coffee with a tentative sip. It was too hot, but otherwise good, and it would cool. Then he glanced at the clock over the stove. It was almost 10:00 a.m. “What’s the news on
the dive crews this morning?”

  “They were still at it last time I checked,” Paul said. “Remote is on that cabinet behind you and so is the TV.”

  Jack eased himself around, reached for the remote and turned the TV on, then searched until he found a local station. Within minutes a news crew was breaking into regular programming with an update on the latest regarding the FBI bust at Morgan’s Point. When Jack saw his friend Charlie Morris standing behind the bank of microphones, he froze. The look on Charlie’s face was grim. And then he began speak.

  “As of nine thirty this morning, we have called off the search teams and will be clearing the area shortly.”

  “Who or what were you searching for?” a reporter called out.

  “At this time, that’s still classified information. We are aware there have been some assumptions made that we were searching for military-issue missiles or weaponry, but that is not the case. We appreciate your interest and concern, but the public is not in danger in any way and never was.”

  Another reporter spoke out. “Then can we assume you were looking for a body?”

  “As I said, it’s still classified information. Thank you,” Charlie said, and walked away.

  Jack didn’t realize he’d been holding his breath until Charlie left the podium. He combed his hair back away from his face and then aimed the remote and turned the TV off.

  “Eggs are done, Dude,” Paul said, and set down a plate of fluffy scrambled eggs at each of their places, followed by a stack of buttered toast.

  Jack turned around, looked at the food in front of him and nodded.

  “Looks good.” He started to pick up his fork with his right hand, then paused and switched hands. “Being ambidextrous comes in handy now and then,” he said, and forked up a bite, chewed and swallowed while Paul watched. “Tastes good, too,” he said.

  Paul grinned with satisfaction, reached for some toast and then dug into his meal.

  Jack was quiet, speaking only to ask Paul to pass the saltshaker.

  Paul shoved both salt and pepper shakers toward him, then got up to refill their coffee.

  “I guess that was weird,” Paul finally said.

  “What was weird?” Jack asked.

  “Well, they think you’re dead and you know you’re not.”

  Jack looked up then and surprised himself by grinning.

  “Yeah, that was weird as hell.”

  “It’ll be hard on any family you have.”

  The grin on Jack’s face slipped, but he never acknowledged the fact that he had any family to notify. Paul seemed like a good guy, but he wasn’t giving Shelly’s existence away to anyone.

  * * *

  Shelly was cleaning house—something she did every Saturday, but this time it was to keep from losing her mind. She’d seen the news report. She’d heard Charlie say they were calling off the search. And she knew enough about the FBI to know that if someone from the Bureau died, nothing would be said until family was notified. But here it was almost noon, and she hadn’t received any phone calls or unexpected visitors. So she went from one job to another in panic mode, praying like she’d never prayed before that it wasn’t going to be her.

  It was a little after 1:00 p.m. when she finally put away the mop and vacuum cleaner, hung the feather duster on a hook inside the cabinet in the utility room and went into the kitchen to wash up. Even though the air conditioner was running, she was hot. The thought of something cool to drink sent her to the refrigerator.

  She had just opened the door to get a bottle of water when the doorbell rang. Breath caught in the back of her throat, and her heart started to pound, but she couldn’t move. The crazy thought went through her mind that as long as she didn’t answer the door, Jack would still be safe.

  But the doorbell rang again, and then someone knocked on it as well, and Shelly made herself move. She was all the way into the living room when she saw the dark government-issue sedan parked at the curb. It was at that point that time began slowing down. It felt as if she was walking through a dream sequence and any moment the alarm would go off and she would wake up. She unlocked the dead bolt and then opened the door, and when she saw Charlie Morris and another agent with him, she thought she was going to throw up.

  Charlie was heartsick. He’d brought his partner, Nolan Warren, with him because he didn’t have the guts to come alone. He could tell by the look on her face that she already knew, yet it was his job to say the words.

  “Shelly, may we come in?”

  The anger she felt was unexpected. “No. Just get it said.”

  He reached for her arm, but she took a step backward, not wanting to be touched. Charlie understood.

  “As you wish. Shelly, I’m so sorry, but from what we can gather, it seems that Jack didn’t survive the bust. We don’t know how, but his cover was blown. He jumped out a window over the bay when the shooting started, and was shot in the back on the way down. We have not been able to recover the body.”

  Shelly reeled as if he’d just slapped her. “So, you not only got him killed, but you lost him, too?”

  “We tried to—”

  Shelly stepped back and shut the door in their faces and turned the lock. She was shaking so hard she couldn’t breathe, and there was a pain spreading in her chest that was surely going to kill her. But when it didn’t, she threw back her head and screamed, and then screamed again and again until she fell to the floor, curling up like a baby in the womb, refusing to be birthed again into an ugly, ugly world.

  Outside, the two men were still standing, unable to decide what to do. Charlie already knew neither one of them had any living relatives, and he had no way of knowing if she had close friends or anyone she could call.

  It was Nolan Warren’s instinct to help people who were in need, and yet in this instance they’d made it worse.

  “Dammit, Charlie, what do we do here?”

  Charlie laid a hand in the middle of the door and then shook his head and turned away.

  “We can’t do anything. They’ll send a chaplain. They’ll offer grief counseling. But Shelly’s going to tell them all to go to hell, and I don’t blame her. We lost our inside man and we’re going to have to live with that.”

  Their steps were slow as they walked back to their car and then drove away.

  Five

  Shelly had cried until her eyes were swollen, her throat was raw and she was so weak it was an effort to breathe. Now she lay motionless on the floor, staring at the underside of the sofa and trying to come to terms with what had happened, but nothing felt real. It was a nightmare of epic proportions and she kept waiting to wake up. From where she was lying, she could smell the lemon oil she’d rubbed onto her dining room table and chairs, and the clean, just-mopped flooring beneath her.

  Eventually, she drifted off to sleep and then woke abruptly, trying to remember why she was on the floor, and when she did, her heart broke all over again. She was on the floor, and Jack was in the water, and she’d never see him again. She didn’t even have a body to bury. The indignity of what was likely happening to his body was horrific. She couldn’t get the images of it out of her head.

  Then she heard footsteps outside on her porch, and then to her horror, there was a knock at the door.

  She didn’t plan to answer, but if the mailman was knocking, he had something needing a signature before he could deliver. Either she got up now and dealt with it, or she’d have to drive all the way down to the post office and take care of it later, and that wasn’t happening. She knew she looked horrible, but she didn’t care.

  She dragged herself to her feet and opened the door. The smile on the mailman’s face froze, his voice mirroring his sudden concern.

  “Mrs. McCann! Are you alright?”

  “No, I’m not, Billy. I just received some bad news.”

  “Oh no! I’m so sorry to
bother you, but this package needs a signature before I can deliver it. Do you mind?”

  He held out what looked like an oversize cell phone and a small stylus, and she signed where he pointed. Then he handed her a box wrapped in plain brown butcher paper.

  “My sympathies,” he said, and ducked his head as he turned and walked away.

  Shelly closed and locked the door, then picked the mail up from the floor, dumping it all on the kitchen table before going to wash her face. She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror as she walked in and shuddered. Her skin was red and blotchy, her eyes were horribly swollen and her bottom lip was bleeding. She had no idea how that had happened.

  She began splashing her face over and over with cool water until her eyes were no longer burning, dried herself off and then looked in the mirror again. Not much had changed. Her eyes still mirrored shock and they were so swollen it hurt to blink. So now she knew. Washing away grief was not a thing that could happen.

  She went back to the kitchen and picked up the box. There was no return address on the outside, so she tore into the wrapping, then opened it. There was a note inside and yet another, smaller jeweler’s box inside. And then she recognized the handwriting.

  “This isn’t happening,” she moaned.

  Happy Absentee Anniversary, Baby. I’ll make it up to you when I get home.

  Love you forever,

  Jack

  The note fluttered to the table as she pressed her hands over her heart. The jeweler’s box loomed like an elephant in the room, and the tension was only going to get worse until she looked at his gift.

  “God help me,” she whispered.

  Her hands were trembling as she reached for the box, and as she lifted the lid, the stunning sapphire ring within caught a ray of sunshine and winked at her. Blue was her favorite color, and the sapphire was her birthstone. She took it out of the box and slipped it on the ring finger of her right hand, then shook her head as fresh tears finally rolled.