by Kris Calvert
I see the moon and the moon sees me. God bless the moon and God bless me. I know an angel watches over me. God bless the angels and God bless me.
I felt helpless as he looked up to me and batted his big blue eyes. I wanted to protect my little family and everyone seemed to think the best way was to sit idly by and hide while everyone looked and waited for Hector to appear.
I’d been accommodating, encouraging and as helpful as I knew how to be, but enough was enough. I wasn’t the kind of girl who sat by and watched the people she loved get destroyed mentally and physically. I was weary of Hector. I might not be an FBI agent, but I’d been a single mother and I was a Southern woman. No man, not even Hector wanted a piece of that action. It was high time I stepped up.
Sure I was alone in New Orleans. Sure I was afraid. But being scared had never stopped me before. Ever.
I put Dax on the bed and covered him with the beautiful wool and silk blanket that was casually and yet perfectly lying across the bed.
After sneaking out of the room and quietly closing the door, I picked up the secure phone in the hallway and dialed for information. Once I got Pete Peterson’s phone number I knew what I had to do.
“Miss Samantha,” the voice bellowed on the other end. “How are you, darlin’? I’m bettin’ good money that Mimi gave you a call. Didn’t she?”
“Yes, sir. She did,” I confirmed. “She told me that Richard had been to the courthouse to check on the deed and legal description of her house or something. Is that so?”
“That is the long and the short of it.”
“What is he looking for? I mean, my name’s on the deed with Mimi’s.”
“Yes, that’s correct. And I have a copy of Mimi’s sealed last will and testament here in my office.”
“My understanding is the house is mine after Mimi’s death.”
“It is. But I think what he wants to know is how far down the line he is for anything from your Mimi.”
“And?” I asked.
“Well…” He began to waver. “Only Mimi can show you her will while she’s alive. I can only read it to you after she’s passed.”
“That means Richard can’t have a copy either, correct?”
“That’s correct. But know this – I think your cousin Richard could slide down a hundred-foot locust tree with a wildcat under each arm and never get a scratch.”
“And in English that means what, Pete?”
He laughed at me, but I wasn’t kidding.
“I don’t know how,” Pete began. “But he always seems to come out ahead in all matters of business.”
“This isn’t business. This is family.”
“I hate to break it to you, honey, but if I had a dollar for every time a family thought that everyone was gonna play nice when the wealthy matriarch died, I’d be a very rich man today. Tears turn into gettin’ while the gettin’s good.”
“I’m not waiting until Mimi’s gone to fight with Richard. I need you to give it to me straight. What’s my exposure?”
“The deed to her estate is in her name and your name. When she passes on, the estate is yours free and clear.”
“So I have nothing to worry about,” I sighed.
“Not until you pass away. I know you are married again. You need to update your will.”
He spoke on, but my body went numb and the loud buzzing in my ears was too hard to overcome. Could Richard the Dick be so cold hearted that he wanted me dead?
“Pete,” I interrupted. “What would happen to the property if something happened to me and my heirs?”
“You mean if everyone is dead?”
“Yes,” I replied softly, the thought now rolling through my head. “If my family is dead, then what happens?”
“If your will doesn’t specifically name someone, it would go into probate.”
“And then?”
“Potentially to the surviving relatives of the family.”
“Thank you, Pete. I’ll be in touch soon.”
I hung up the phone and called Mimi. After several rings I knew she was out of her room. I called Mac.
“Dan Kelley’s office.”
I recognized Micah’s rasp at once. I took a deep breath and answered.
“Hello, Micah. It’s Samantha Peterson…ah, I mean Samantha Callahan.”
“I knew who you meant,” she grunted. “Mac’s not in the office. He’s in a briefing. Do you want me to call him out? Is this an emergency?”
“No emergency. I didn’t want to call his cell in case he was in a meeting.”
Micah had a way of always making me feel like I was intruding on Mac’s life.
“I’ll let him know you called when he returns,” she offered.
“No need,” I quipped. “I’ll text him.”
“Feel free to text him if Agent Xanthis has given you a new phone. Otherwise, you’d be best served to wait until I tell him you called.”
“And you will,” I stated.
“Will what?” she coughed.
“You will tell him I called,” I repeated.
“That’s what they pay me to do, Mrs. Callahan.”
The snide remark would’ve normally made me laugh. I didn’t care how tough Micah claimed to be, she had no idea who she was dealing with. I would be cordial until the situation dictated otherwise, but she was teetering on the otherwise. Teeing me off was a place I was certain Micah didn’t want to go with me.
“Bless your heart, Micah,” I sang sweetly and in my best drawl. “Now don’t go sailin’ out farther than you can row back. Please, call me Sam.”
My passive-aggressive nature was met with silence.
“You’ll tell him I called?”
“Yes,” she muttered.
“Thank you. I really appreciate all you do for Mac.”
“Sure,” she sighed. It was obvious she’d had her fill of me and wanted off the phone.
“Thank you. And Micah?”
“Yeah?”
“Have a nice day.”
“Mommy?”
Dax walked into the hallway rubbing his eyes. His naps were becoming few and far between. “What’s up, sweetheart?”
“I wanna go home.”
“Me too,” I agreed as I pulled him in for a tight hug. “But for now we need to stay here.”
“Honeymoons are loooong,” he sang out as he stomped his feet and threw his head back in frustration.
“Sometimes they are,” I agreed, thinking of my non-existent honeymoon. “What would you like to do while Katy is asleep? We could take a walk in the garden.”
He rolled his eyes and took my hand. “Adelay and I do that every day, Mommy.”
“We could draw,” I suggested.
His eyes lit up and I knew I’d struck a chord with him. Dax loved his crayons and paper.
“Where’s your backpack with your paper and crayons?”
“I’ll get it.”
Walking back into the children’s room, I looked out onto the beautiful grounds and then into the bassinet that held Katy. I had everything to be thankful for. I was living a life I never thought I’d have. I wasn’t going to let Hector steal my joy.
“Here it is, Mommy!” Dax shouted excitedly.
“Shhh…” I smiled. “Don’t wake your sister.”
I pointed into my room and Dax followed, tiptoeing and giggling as I joined him.
We sat on the old hardwood floor and he began to take out his things deliberately and one at a time.
“These are my crayons…this is my paper…”
He sang each item, gliding up the scale as if he were asking a question. He was the ray of sunshine I needed today.
“Here are some of my pit-tures, Mommy,” he said, proudly handing me a stack of artwork from the days past.
I shuffled through them, smiling at the pictures he’d drawn of the wedding, of Katy, and even Mimi and Nancy at King’s house. There were pictures of Mac and Dax together, Polly and now Adelay and even Leo.
“Dax, th
ese are so wonderful. You’re such a talented artist.”
“What’s that?” he asked.
“You are very good at drawing pictures.”
“I’m a good drawl-ler,” he nodded.
“Tell me who all of these people are.”
“This is you,” he said, pointing to the stick figure with long dark hair. “This is Polly,” he continued as he showed me Polly’s long ponytail.
“Is this Katy?” I asked, pointing to the baby wrapped and lying in the grass.
“Yes,” he smiled. “That’s baby Katy and this is Adelay.”
“These are just amazing. Is this Mac? I mean Daddy?”
“Yes. That’s Daddy,” he explained as he sifted through the stack of construction paper. “And that’s Mr. Leo, Mimi, Miss Celia and Coco.”
I looked to the paper wondering if Coco was somehow Mac’s mother and had to laugh at Leo’s hair. “Dax, Mr. Leo’s ponytail is as long as Polly’s.”
“I know,” he smiled. “I like Mr. Leo.”
“Me too.”
“Now,” I began as I looked through the pictures. “Who is Coco? Do you mean Miss Nancy? Daddy’s mommy?”
I looked to him as he began drawing another picture. He began with a sun in the sky and green grass at the bottom of the white paper.
“Daddy’s mommy?” he asked again.
“Grandmother Callahan,” I said as I pushed his hair back and away from his eyes. “I don’t want you to be afraid of her just because she doesn’t talk very often. She has a hard time remembering people and things.”
“I know. Miss Celia says she thinks up here like me,” he said as he tapped his head. “But she can’t say it here,” he continued as he put a single precious finger to his mouth.
“That’s a very good way of understanding your grandmother. But she loves you very much.”
“I know. She told me,” he said flatly.
“She did? When?”
“In her room. Coco was there.”
“Dax,” I stopped and began to look through his pictures again. “Who are you talking about? Dr. King’s housekeeper? You know the nice lady who made breakfast in the big house on the lake?”
“Yeah,” he answered without looking up from drawing.
“So that’s who Coco is?”
“No.”
I was becoming frustrated with his answers. “Dax, stop drawing and show me who you’re talking about.”
Dax put down his green crayon and began to calmly sift through the stack of drawings. Pulling out a dog-eared piece of paper he smoothed it out and pointed.
“There. That’s Coco.”
My heart sank as I looked at a drawing of Dax, clearly at Lone Oak under the old tree with the house in the background. Beside him was another person with dark hair covering his face.
“Who is Coco with at Lone Oak?”
“Me. We play. He calls me Diego,” Dax laughed.
I took Dax by both hands and made him look at me. “Dax, I need you to tell me who this is. Is he someone who works at Daddy’s house? At Lone Oak?”
Dax shrugged, unaffected by my questions.
“When was the last time you saw Coco? Before the wedding?”
“No,” Dax drawled. “He was at the water.”
“What water?”
“C’mon, Mommy.” He held his hands out in exasperation. “The water. Where all the you-in-alls were.”
“What?”
He leaned into me and whispered. “You know…where you can pee but not in the toilet.”
“Urinals?”
“Yeah,” he confirmed as he went back to drawing. “Daddy explained it to me.”
“Dax, I need you to think very clearly. Tell me everywhere you’ve seen Coco.”
“I dunno. Lots of places. He’s always around,” he said as he made a big circle with his arms. “But no one knows,” he whispered. “It’s a secret.”
I began to look carefully at each of the pictures Dax had drawn. There was the dark figure with Dax at Lone Oak, at Mimi’s house, King’s at the lake and now Leo’s in New Orleans.
I felt as if I was going to vomit as I stared at the crayon drawings.
“Dax,” I mumbled, unable to catch my breath. “Have you seen him since we’ve been at Mr. Leo’s house?”
“He was in the flowers this morning.”
Dax stood and walked to the open french doors that overlooked the gardens. He pointed down and nodded. “Down there.”
“Hey!” Polly exclaimed as she breezed into my room and tossed her purse onto the bed. “What’s going on in here? Looks like fun. Can I color too?”
“Polly,” I uttered. “Where’s Leo?”
25
MAC
“Micah!” I shouted into the hallway.
“Jesus, Mac. What?” she cried with exasperation. “You know I missed your sorry ass around here, but now I’m starting to remember why you used to piss me off so much.”
“Get me Agent Moss at Sam’s house. I want to know what Richard is up to.”
“He just called.”
“Moss?” I asked as I saw Micah nod. “Can you get him back?” I huffed.
I was in no mood today. I needed to get as much information on Hector as I could before I left to go to Shadeland to be with Mom. Nothing was happening fast enough and no one was working hard enough for me. I needed answers, I needed information and I needed it now.
The phone rang as Micah shouted into my door. “Pick up the phone, Mac. It’s Agent Moss.”
“Agent Moss, this is Mac. I need an update,” I said, foregoing any formal hello.
“It’s pretty quiet here, sir. Mr. Peterson has set up an office and brought in three employees.”
“We’ve tagged his phone,” I said. “But I want a bug set up wherever he’s working and anywhere else in the house he spends time.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Have there been any visitors? I mean other than his employees?”
“No, sir.”
“Has he gone out?”
“He’s in and out all day, sir.”
“I want a tail on him. I want to know his every move. Do you understand?”
“Is there a reason we’re treating him like a suspect, sir?”
“He is.”
“Mac,” Micah said as she walked into the room. “We need to talk.”
I gestured to the chair in front of the desk and continued looking through the intel I’d just received from Shadeland.
“First off, your new wife has a bug up her ass where I’m concerned.”
“What?” I snarled.
“Your wife,” she said distinctly and with sarcasm. “Have you forgotten about her already?”
“I have not forgotten about her, nor will I forget about her, Micah. What’s your point?”
“She doesn’t like me very much.”
“Funny,” I scoffed. “She says the same thing about you.”
“About me?”
“Jesus, Micah. Think about what you just said to me. I can see why she thinks you don’t care for her.”
“Whatever…” she droned.
I missed Sam terribly and my grumpy demeanor was going to rear its ugly head if Micah continued down this slippery slope.
“Ya know what,” I ground out as I slammed a file on my desk. “Let’s just clear the air. Because I plan on knowing you for the rest of my life and I plan on being married to Sam for the rest of my life. So,” I paused.
“So what?” she smirked.
“So what the fuck, Micah?”
She stood and paced the office like a caged animal. Micah was tough as nails, but you didn’t want to get her dander up. She’d come at you like a rabid dog.
“What do you want me to say, Mac? That I’m glad you’re gone? That I’m happy you got married and left me here in D.C. with all the other assholes? I’m not,” she shouted as she threw her arms in the air. “Is that what you wanted to hear?”
“What did you expect me to do, M
icah? Stay here with you and Dan while everything I ever wanted was waiting for me in Shadeland? You know me better than that,” I shouted back.
“I thought I did.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“The Mac Callahan I knew was a badass motherfucker. Tough, unafraid, had a taste for life and wanted to live it. Now you’re a shell of who you once were. You’re not an FBI agent. You’re a family man.”
“I am still an FBI agent, dammit, Micah. I’m a husband. I’m a father. I’m exactly what I was supposed to be.”
“What? A small town guy in a tiny-ass town? The most action you’re ever going to see is at a Friday night poker game at the country club.”
“I don’t need to chase criminals to feel alive, Micah. I’m alive because I have the love of a wonderful woman and two beautiful children to call my own.”
“What. Has. Happened?” she asked pausing between words. “I don’t even know you.”
“Maybe you never knew me. Because if you did, you’d understand how happy I am. You’d be happy for me.”
“I don’t know you. I don’t know you? I know everything about you, you shithead. I’m the one person who knows about all the women – and I mean all the women.”
I sat back in my chair. She did know all the women. And there were plenty. But I’d long put that life behind me. I never loved any of the one-night stands. And more than that, each of the women knew exactly what they were getting themselves into with me. Not only did I have the reputation of never settling down, I told each of them before we ever went to bed that I wasn’t the serious relationship type.
“You know,” she began as she sat back down in the chair. “I never thought of you as the asshole the women you were screwing over said you were. I thought you were a good and decent man. But now I agree with most of the women in Washington, D.C. You are a huge dick.”
I took a deep breath. “Micah, do you remember what you told me once about scorned women?”
She sat silently and shook her head.
“You said, and I quote, women who hang on when it’s over are jealous little bitches –jealous of the next girl who’ll come along and hold your attention. Do you remember that?”
