A short time later, we were in the Dodge Dart, bags in the trunk, dog on my lap. Jojo had several more last minute instructions for me as she navigated the Dulles Toll Road. I tried to keep track of every one of them, but my head was already spinning.
“What if I forget something?” I asked, fretful.
“Don’t worry, Marigold, I wrote it all down and put it all in your briefcase. You’ll do fine. So will Kary.” She reached across and patted the sleeping dog. He opened his eyes briefly and then closed them again.
“He always was a good little sleeper,” she laughed. “Once, when Linc went off on assignment, we took him with us on vacation. We had a ten-hour drive, and I swear that pup slept through eight of them. I’m going to miss him. I was looking forward to his staying with us. Promise me you’ll take good care of Kary, Marigold.”
“Absolutely,” I smiled, “like he was my own. It’s the least I can do for Lincoln, after everything he did for me.”
“He’s a good man. I just wish he’d get his head on straight when it comes to women. A man like that....”
“What?” I prompted her to finish her thought. She smiled, shaking her head slightly.
“He’s so smart that he’s dumb. Maybe it’s because he grew up in a family of boys. Or maybe it’s just that when all’s said and done, he’s just not a manipulative kind of guy. It’s like he thinks every woman who yanks him through his paces is some kind of goddess.”
“What does that mean, his mother is a saint and therefore all women must be equally worthy by virtue of their sex?”
“Well,” she sighed as she turned into the entrance for the airport, “you’d have thought he’d have figured out how wrong that is by now, wouldn’t you? Liz is a very down-to-earth, astute woman, with a good head on her shoulders. She doesn’t take any nonsense from her sons. Maybe Lincoln thinks any woman who bosses him around has his best interests at heart, like his mother. Believe me, it’s just not true.”
“Some men just have to learn the hard way,” I shrugged. “Too bad, because he’s a nice guy.”
“Not to mention easy on the eyes....” Jojo shot me a mischievous grin.
“There is that,” I giggled. “Those eyes!”
“Don’t tell Tom I told you this, but if I was twenty years younger, I’d be all over that boy!”
“He’s no good to any woman, though, until he gets over Deirdre. As long as she’s yanking his chain, he’s useless.”
“Too bad we can’t fix that, Marigold.” She pulled into the short-term parking garage, did two loops before finding an open spot, and then popped the trunk. “He’d be a real keeper.”
“Tell me about it,” I groaned, unable to keep the note of resignation from my voice. “It’s such a waste!”
Kary had one last chance to relieve himself as we walked towards the main terminal entrance. He soon made his way over to a fire hydrant. When he finished, I unzipped his travel carrier and tucked him inside for the long journey through Dulles International Airport. He was a good sport about it, but I could tell he didn’t enjoy the experience of being jostled around in a mesh carryall. Who could blame him?
At the Delta departures desk, I checked my suitcase with the help of the FBI support services coordinator. Once it was accepted and the tag was scanned, we made our way to the “All Gates” entrance for the security checkpoint. Jojo had arranged for me to have a government-issued ID card, so that I could enter the TSA pre-check security line.
“There’s Bobby,” Jojo announced, nudging me in the side as she waved to a short, non-descript man wearing a black leather jacket and blue jeans. “He’s here to make sure you get on that plane. We don’t want any unnecessary surprises.”
The introductions were brief and cordial. After shaking hands with the newcomer, I got Kary out of his travel carrier for the scan and we all stepped up to go through the electronic gateway. A couple of TSA workers took a close look at the FBI agent’s proffered credentials and a piece of paper he handed them, stating that he and Jojo were on official FBI business and would accompany me to the waiting area, to make sure I boarded my plane safely. The taller of the two uniformed women hurriedly waved the boss over. Next thing I knew, the three of us were led to a small office, where Mary Thornworthy, the shift supervisor, invited us to sit and wait for the flight to be called.
“If you’d like to be escorted onto the aircraft after everyone else is seated, that would be fine,” the fifty-something woman informed me. “After all, you’re flying in first class, so it shouldn’t be a problem.”
“Thanks,” I said, rather flustered to be getting so much attention. After all my years of flying under the radar, it felt odd to be singled out as the subject of so much attention.
“Mary, I appreciate that,” said the smooth-talking FBI agent in a voice that could melt butter. “Susan’s had a rough couple of weeks and we just want her to have a secure, comfortable flight.”
“I don’t know if you’re aware of this or not, but we have an air marshal aboard this flight,” the security officer told us. “I can let him know Susan’s on the flight, and that way, you’ll have some peace of mind.
“That’s perfect,” Jojo smiled. “I’m glad she’ll be in such capable hands.”
The next forty minutes were spent sitting in the TSA office, away from the public eye, with Kary on my lap, chatting about ordinary things. Bob gave me a list of his favorite quintessential Atlanta experiences, and Jojo added a few of her own. Fifteen minutes before the dog and I were due to board, Kary went back into his carrier and we hiked to from the main terminal to Concourse B, making our way to the gate. By the time we were notified by the Delta agent that it was time for me to take my seat on the plane, I found myself tearing up. What is wrong with me? I’ve only known Jojo a short time, and yet I’m sad to say goodbye. The stress must really be catching up with me. I’m getting too attached to people I don’t really even know.
Much to my surprise, the feeling turned out to be mutual. I was enveloped in a tight embrace by the FBI support services coordinator.
“You take good care of yourself, Susan,” she said, bear-hugging me, “especially that ear of yours.”
“I will. And thanks for everything.”
Jojo leaned in and whispered in my uninjured one. “If I had a daughter, I’d want her to be just like you. Whatever happens, you have a good life.”
“You too.” I thought about my mom and how much I missed her. For just a little while, Jojo gave me back that sense of having someone care about me, and it had felt good. “And thank Tom again for everything.”
“Don’t worry, dear. You’ll have the chance to do that yourself,” she called after me. “Give my best to Jeff!”
With a deep intake of air, I steeled myself to go on alone, one foot in front of the other, through the door and down the long accordion hallway to the waiting plane. For a brief moment, I hesitated, thinking it was impossible to do this one more time all by myself. How could I restart my life yet again, meeting a new group of people who would look after me?
Kary picked that moment to shift in his nylon bag, fortuitously reminding me I wasn’t really alone at all. I had my canine companion with me.
Part Two: Coffee, Crime, And Con Men In The Caribbean
Bicknell’s Thrush migrates to the Greater Antilles in the Caribbean every winter, but extreme weather events, such as hurricanes, and the loss of tree cover through deforestation and over-development further reduces the natural island habitat, puts the songbird at risk.
Chapter Sixteen
The flight was uneventful. I had a window seat on the right, thanks to Jojo, one that just happened to help to conceal that injured ear of mine. Every once in a while, I would reach my hand down and touch the mesh window of Kary’s carrier, just to let him know I hadn’t forgotten him. I could feel that tiny nose press back.
I passed the time engrossed in The Secret of White Jasmine. I loved the Caribbean setting and the island intrigue. For the better part o
f an hour and a half, I let go of my apprehension and felt myself transported to crystal blue waters of Isla de Margarita, where the sinister Alex de Becque plied naive women with bogus promises and stolen treasures, even as he successfully conned them out of their fortunes. His game crumbled the day he romanced the gutsy Belinda Darnell, who just happened to be an Interpol agent tracking a missing Fabergé egg.
The closer we got to Georgia, the more I began to feel my stomach churning in anticipation. Glancing out the window, I could see the ground below now, and I knew it was only a matter of time before the landing gear would come out and the plane would bump along the runway, depositing me into my new life.
We were on the ground, taxiing to the terminal, when I saw a fellow passenger firing up his phone. A moment later, he was talking to someone named Beverly, whose tinny voice came through loud and clear. That reminded me that it was time to turn on my new phone for the first time.
Extricating it from the bottom of my purse, I found the power button and depressed it. Jojo had made me a cheat sheet for quick operations on the phone, and as soon as the screen lit up, I found I already had a text waiting to be read.
“Ask your driver how he got his name, and when he tells you, you’ll know for sure he’s with Jeff,” it said. It was signed Abe. Reminding myself that Jojo gave everyone aliases that she said I would recognize, it didn’t take long to realize this was from Lincoln. Smiling to myself, I felt a little thrill at the thought that the FBI agent was still involved in my life. Maybe I couldn’t have him as a romantic partner, but I was glad to have him on my case. There was just something about him that seemed to raise my spirits.
When passengers in the first class section began to disembark, I grabbed my briefcase from the overhead compartment, tucked my snakeskin clutch inside it, and slid the dog carrier out from under the seat. A moment later, I was on my way into the terminal to find my driver.
I found him over by the clock tower. He was holding a large white card with my alias printed on it in blue marker, the letters all in capitals.
“I’m Rocky,” he told me as I greeted him.
“You’re Rocky, like Sylvester Stallone’s stair-climbing character?”
“No, as in ‘Rocky and Bullwinkle’,” said the diminutive man. “You’ll understand what I mean when you meet Jeff.”
“Okay.” I gave him a quick smile, not really understanding his point, but mindful of Lincoln’s instruction to ask. “Dare I wonder how you two came up with that?”
“We went to high school together. I was the superstar, he was my sidekick. And now...well, you might say there’s been a bit of a reversal in our roles.”
“Ah, it must be tough being his driver,” I replied, thinking I was commiserating with the man.
“You think I’m his driver?” He gave me a big grin. “Lady, there’s no need to feel sorry for me. I handle security for Roaring Kill Productions, Jeff’s company.”
“Sorry. I just assumed...and I shouldn’t have,” I apologized, embarrassment flushing my face.
“Don’t worry about it. I was a cop for twelve years before old Jeff hit the big time and recruited me. I learned a long time ago not to sweat the small stuff.”
“Roaring Kill...why do I know that name?”
“Ever been to the Catskills? It’s a well-known hiking trail, not far from the Devil’s Tombstone.”
“That explains it. Still, it’s a great name for a production company that creates thrillers.”
“Indeed.” He took my elbow, steering me in the direction of the baggage claim area. We continued chatting while we awaited the first of the many bags down the conveyor belt.
Fifteen minutes later, Rocky led me out of the terminal on our way to the parking garage. We were just about to make our way over the crosswalk when I spied a notice for the airport’s dog park.
“Oh, do you mind if we pop in, so Kary can have a quick pit stop?”
“Sure, why not?”
We walked the few hundred yards to the fenced enclosure, chatting about the weather in Atlanta this time of year. The moment I had him out of his travel carrier and on the pavement, the eager Shih Tzu pulled on his leash, clearly in a hurry to relieve himself.
“Why don’t I stay here, with the bags?” my companion suggested. “You two go ahead. Take your time.”
“Thanks.” I opened the gate, invited my canine friend in with me, and then secured the latch. Rocky settled himself against the fence to wait for us. He had his phone out and it looked like he was checking messages. As an Atlanta police officer passed by, I noticed he stopped to greet Rocky. The two men got into an animated conversation, laughing out loud as they traded words.
Kary, unleashed, trotted happily around the doggie playground, stopping here and there for a sniff. He paid faint attention when we were joined by Beauregard, the black toy poodle, and his owner, Dave, who engaged in a game of fetch with a tennis ball.
“This park is a lifesaver. We’re on our way to Phoenix, so Beau really has a long day ahead of him,” he told me. “It’s nice to be able to let the little guy loose out here, even if it does mean we have to go through security again.”
“Wow, back in line for that again?” I raised my eyebrows. “What a brave soul you are. When does your flight take off??”
“Not for another hour and a half. It makes for a really long day of traveling.”
“I can see that it does,” I agreed. We chatted for a few minutes while the two dogs got acquainted. Curiosity satisfied, Beau returned to his master, ready to play.
“Go long, boy!” the chubby, gray-haired man hollered, tossing the yellow felt-covered orb into the air. His aim was slightly off, and as the ball hit the enormous metal statue of a dog, it ricocheted off and smacked against the aluminum fence. I bent down to retrieve the yellow tennis ball as it rolled past my foot. With the ball in my hand, I raised my arm to toss it back to the eager black dog, but the look on Dave’s face alarmed me.
“Hey, what are you doing?” he hollered.
Whirling around, I saw the cause of that fear. A man in a beige windbreaker and khakis had hopped the fence and was heading straight for Kary, arms outstretched, as the little Shih Tzu attempted to evade him. A bolt of sheer terror passed through my body and I found myself galvanized into action.
“Don’t you dare touch that dog! Leave him alone!” I screamed, waving my arms as I rushed toward the dog-napper, impeded by my new purple high heels on the uneven grass surface. Kary sprinted in my direction, and as he came into arm’s reach, I bent over and safely scooped up the terrified Shih Tzu. Rocky and the uniformed cop hurried towards us, guns drawn.
“Hold it right there!”
The man in the beige jacket gave Dave a hard shove and knocked him to the ground before fleeing to the far end of the dog park where he hoisted himself back over the chain link fence and continued on, jumping into traffic and just barely missing the front fender of a small wagon.
“What the hell was that?” Rocky wanted to know. He kept his weapon at the ready. His friend was talking into his police radio, summoning assistance.
Beauregard, worried about his master, trotted over to where Dave lay sprawled on the grass and pushed his nose against his master’s cheek. A little whimper emerged from the dismayed dog. A hand came up and patted the loyal companion on the snout.
“Thank God!” I gasped, feeling relief wash over me like a salve. “You’re okay?”
“Come on!” Rocky grabbed my elbow. “We’ve got to go.”
“But....” I protested, feeling responsible for the man who lay on the ground. “Shouldn’t we....”
“Now!” Rocky was insistent, pulling me away as the cop bent over to attend to the man on the ground. I could see more uniformed people arriving on foot and heard police sirens in the distance. My bodyguard and I crossed the grass and opened the gate to exit the dog park. The Atlanta cop suddenly reappeared, hailing us. “I’ve got a squad car on the way for you, Rocky.”
“Thank
s, Kubiak,” my bodyguard told him. “Good thing you were right there.”
“What kind of idiot tries to steal a dog at an airport with a cop standing right there?” the baffled law enforcement officer wanted to know.
“I was so busy keeping an eye out for Susan, I didn’t think to worry about the dog,” Rocky replied. “What was that jerk thinking?”
Curious passersby began to gather on the sidewalk, a few with their cell phones pointed at us. I cringed at the thought this would end up on YouTube or the evening news. It was obviously not a normal day at the Atlanta Hartsfield-Jackson International Airport dog park. I could hear the chatter as people speculated about whether a couple of dogs had gotten into a rumble. Rocky pushed me towards the curb just as a marked police cruiser screeched to the halt.
“Let’s go!”
His uniformed friend threw open the back door, instinctively putting a hand on the top of my head as I slid onto the seat with the dog. Rocky squeezed in behind me, bags on his lap. The Atlanta police officer joined his female colleague up front.
“Where did you park?” asked the driver. “We’ll drop you off.”
Six minutes later, after a loop around the airport, we entered the short-term parking garage. A second team of cops were waiting there, still on the lookout for the missing suspect. After Rocky’s vehicle was carefully examined and declared safe to drive, then and only then did we bid the cops goodbye.
“Thanks, Kubiak.” Rocky reached inside his coat jacket and withdrew a small black case containing business cards. Separating one from the pack, he offered it to the officer. “Give your supervisor my card, in case there are any questions about what happened here.”
“Happy to help, Rocky. I’ll see you at the studio tomorrow. I’m doing a four-to-midnight shift.”
“Stop by my office when you clock in and we’ll get caught up on the incident,” said the man in charge of security for Jefferson Cornwall’s production company.
Reluctant Witness Page 13
