“Wait! Wait! I want to make another toast. But before I do that I want to tell you there are very few people I admire and respect 100 percent, but there are some, and I want to add you to my short list. I admire you for having the guts to walk through those gates. I admire you for having the guts to leave your children behind, knowing they will be cared for, because it is the smart person who knows how and when to fight another day. We’re going to get your children back. I promise. I never make a promise I can’t keep.”
There were tears, but Lizzie had expected them because she had her own, which she was trying to keep in check. She needed to text Ted, and she needed to do it immediately. Now that she had a list of the children’s names along with physical descriptions, it would help Ted and make the Sisters’ job easier. Since Ted was a master at text messaging, he was the logical one to contact. When she finished, she noticed the young women’s eyelids were starting to droop. It had been a long, exhausting day for all of them. They all said their good-byes, with Lizzie promising to be in touch no later than noon of the following day.
There were hugs, kisses on the cheek, then more hugs before Lizzie was left alone at the table. She ordered a second margarita and a hamburger loaded with cheese, onions, lettuce, bacon, and tomato—her all-time favorite late-night “snack.” She leaned back and closed her eyes for a few minutes as her mind raced.
Lizzie took a long drink and called Cosmo Cricket. “First things first. I love you, Cricket. With every fiber of my being. Second, I need a favor. I need a large, safe place for a whole lot of people, most of them children. I’m going to need it by midafternoon tomorrow or sooner if you can do it. Someplace secluded, no prying eyes, and it has to have all the comforts of home. I’m breaking the law that you and I both love, Cricket, just so you know. I want you to call Annie. She has an idea, so act on it for all of us. Third, I love you more than I did when I first made this call.”
Lizzie waited a moment for the response. She heard the smile in Cosmo’s voice and the reassuring words, “Consider it done. And just for the record, I love you more more.”
Lizzie grinned to herself as she bit down on her burger, which was so big she almost couldn’t fit it into her mouth. While she chewed, she text messaged Ted again, then Maggie, who was still up for some reason at midnight.
Her work done, Lizzie finished her burger and her margarita and actually thought about ordering another drink. She convinced herself the first one was never finished so she threw caution to the winds and ordered a third. Just the fact that she could do all this, that she had the freedom to order and pay for what she wanted, made her happy. She took one little sip and pushed away the drink. She paid the bill and made her way to her room. As she walked through the hall, she wondered how people could live with other people making each and every decision of their lives, with no choices at all. How could people lead such a robotic existence? All-consuming brainwashing, masquerading as religious belief, was the only answer she could come up with.
Before she slipped between the covers, Lizzie Fox dropped to her knees and prayed.
The bathwater in the Jacuzzi was cold. The glass of wine sitting in the alcove over the tub had lost its appeal hours ago, along with any desire for sleep. Maggie was gulping at strong black coffee, her fourth cup, her nerves twanging all over the place as she waited for news from Ted and the Sisters. She hoped she didn’t come to regret the decision not to call any of them to tell them Myra’s news until everyone was safely away from the HOE compound.
Maybe she should change her clothes and go back to the office so she could be ready to make instant decisions in a work atmosphere if needed. Before she could change her mind, she stripped down and pulled on a pair of jeans and a fleece-lined sweatshirt, then slipped into her running shoes. Now she felt like the old Maggie, with grease on her sneakers and ready to set the world on fire. She peeled a banana as she dialed the car service that took her back and forth to work. “I’ll be downstairs in ten minutes. Be there!”
Before she left the house, she jammed the last of the bananas into her backpack along with an apple, an orange, several power bars, and a bag of cookies. Then she checked her e-mail on her home computer, which was tied into the Post’s e-mail server. Finally, she checked her BlackBerry. She had no messages from anyone. A minute later she was out the door and waiting at the curb. She looked around at the quiet night and was surprised to see two neighbors walking their dogs. They had to be nocturnal people, she thought, something she was not. Several cars went by before her driver pulled to the curb.
“Are you going in early or are you going in late, Miss Spritzer?”
“Both,” she said, slumping down in the seat and buckling up. The rest of the trip to the Post was made in silence.
When Maggie stepped out of the elevator she ran smack into her assistant, Sally.
“What are you doing here, Sally? I thought you went home when I did. Did something happen? Why didn’t you call me? What? What? Tell me.”
“Nothing, Maggie. I just decided to stay in case something did happen. I caught a few hours’ sleep. I stayed because I knew you’d be back. Now, aren’t you glad I did? With me here you won’t be alone in this big old place,” Sally said cheerfully.
“Nothing came in from Ted or Joe?”
“No. But it’s still early out there.” Sally looked up at the bank of clocks on the wall. “It’s only ten o’clock out there.”
“I think we’re both nuts. We could be home sleeping in our own beds, but here we are, with nothing to do.”
“Are you hoping for another special edition tomorrow?”
Maggie licked her lips. Was she? Of course she was, a special edition was every editor-in-chief’s dream, but that particular dream depended on Ted, Espinosa, and the vigilantes. She nodded.
“What are you expecting to happen in the next few hours? You know you can trust me, Maggie. I’m not seeing it. Anything after the early edition here and the one in Provo will be anticlimactic. Unless you know something you aren’t sharing,” Sally said as she tried to figure out what else could possibly warrant a second special edition in as many days.
Maggie was too good a newswoman to give away anything no matter how trusted the employee was. “Just my reporter’s gut instinct,” she responded vaguely as she yanked out a banana from her backpack and started to eat it, wondering as she chomped down if she’d get constipated from having two bananas. She finished it off, then peeled the orange she’d brought along. The orange should level things off, and in case it didn’t, she still had the apple. If she factored in her nerves, she rather thought her lower abdomen would be in fine shape. God, what is wrong with me?
Maggie looked up at the clocks. Almost eight in the morning in England. Going on eleven o’clock in Utah. Something had to happen soon. It just had to.
The scent of the orange peel wafting over her desk was pleasant. “Sally, what time can we go online to see the morning edition of the Daily Herald, do you know?”
“I’ll check. Probably the same time you can read ours, around two or three. The papers are on the street by four. Maybe midnight. Be right back.”
Maggie scarfed down the orange, juice dribbling down her chin and onto her desk. She swiped at it with the sleeve of her sweatshirt. She debated about eating the apple but decided to let it stay in her backpack. For the moment. She could always chew on her fingernails.
Sally was back within minutes. “Depending on the weather, around 1:30 Utah time. What online has to do with the weather is beyond me.”
Maggie looked at the clock and shrugged. The life of a reporter-turned-EIC was to wait for the story. No, that wasn’t true. As a reporter, she created the story. It was the EIC who waited for the story. She wished, and not for the first time, that she was out in Utah with the Sisters, watching and helping the story unfold.
“C’mon, c’mon, someone call in—text, fax…something,” Maggie muttered under her breath as she watched the hands on the clocks across the room.
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Chapter 15
Myra was on her fifth—or was it her sixth?—cup of tea. She couldn’t remember. For the most part, the only time she drank tea was when she was in bed with a bad cold or the flu. She longed for a cup of strong black coffee, but it wasn’t to be had. In England, you drank tea whether you liked it or not. She got up off the chair she’d been sitting in and walked over to the window to stare out at the gray, dismal day that seemed to be unfolding. She longed for a brisk, sunny autumn day back on the mountain with the girls…raking the leaves, with pumpkin pies baking in the oven. She wished for Murphy and Grady begging her to throw a ball or stick so they could fetch it back.
Myra turned her head slightly to see the young woman sitting on the love seat. She wondered how anyone could sit so still for so long, and stare off into space for hours at a time the way that young woman had been doing and was still doing.
Where was Charles? What was going on? Myra looked at the watch on her wrist. It had been hours since Charles came to check on her. He’d said little, his face a mask of pain. She wondered if it was permissible to go outside and walk around. Maybe the young woman named Allison wouldn’t rebuff her this time if she asked her to go for a walk, just to stretch the kinks out of their necks and legs. She sighed. She’d never know unless she made the offer.
“Mrs. Barnstable, would you like to join me for a little walk? I think we could both use some fresh air. I’d like to hear about your children if you’re up to talking.”
Allison Barnstable looked up at Myra and saw nothing other than compassion in the older woman’s face. The mention of her children brought tears to her eyes. She blinked them away and got up. She nodded as she followed Myra down one long hallway after another until they reached the front door, where a man eyed them as though they were the enemy.
Myra squared her shoulders and said, “We want to go outside for a little while. We need some fresh air.”
The man, or, as Myra thought of him, the guard, hesitated for a full minute before he pressed a button she couldn’t even see. The door swished open on some kind of hydraulic mechanism. The two women walked through the opening and down a winding path. There were no people to be seen and no cars or ambulances in any of the parking spaces.
Desperate to say something, anything, to elicit a conversation with the young woman at her side, Myra finally asked, “Do you have many sunny days here?”
“Not really,” was the curt response.
At least it was a response, something she could run with, and run she did as she babbled on about the farm in McLean and Big Pine Mountain. She talked about golden sunshine, the rich scent of pine resin on the mountain, of the horses on her farm, and how wonderful it was to ride over the pastures. She talked of her daughter and her passing with a catch in her voice. “So you see, dear, Sir Malcolm has already lost a child. It was a horrible time for us both.” She deliberately avoided specific details in order to protect herself, Charles, and her fellow Sisters.
“Tell me about your children. Do you have any snapshots of them with you? Oh, look, here’s a bench. We can sit down for a few minutes.”
Allison Barnstable was like a robot, easily led, as Myra guided her to a bench that was still wet, but she didn’t seem to mind.
“Why are you talking to me? What is it you want from me? Did you see that woman who came here during the night? She comes every night with four men, and they take her to Geoff’s room. She stays for thirty minutes, then the men take her away. She was here the first night they brought me here. They wouldn’t let me see him, but they let her see him. I kicked up a bit of a fuss, and they sedated me. Against my will.” Tears rolled down Allison’s cheeks.
Oh, dear. “Was it someone you know?” Myra asked. She had her suspicions as to who “that woman” was, but she kept them to herself. “I guess I slept through the visit.” She hated lying to this young woman, but she had to protect Charles and his friend. Assuming she was guessing correctly.
Allison sniffed. “Of course I don’t know her. I think it’s Lady Pamela Adamson, but I can’t prove that. They always say the wife is the last to know about these things. Well, they’re wrong. I do know. I just can’t put a face or a name to the woman who was here.”
Allison was crying openly as Myra tried to grapple with what she was hearing. Should she say something, or should she just listen? She patted Allison’s arm the way only a mother would. Sometimes actions were more powerful than words.
“He’s going to die. I know it. I feel it here,” Allison said, thumping her chest. “They wouldn’t even let me inside that room. I have to look at Geoff through the glass, but they let that woman in there. She holds his hand and talks to him. It should be me sitting there. He’s my husband even though he…even though we haven’t…I need to say good-bye, to say I’m sorry I wasn’t what he…Oh, sweet Jesus, I am so sorry. My mum told me, but I didn’t listen. I wanted…I did everything I could to make myself into what he wanted, but it wasn’t enough. He was so dashing, women always fell all over him. And yet he picked me. Look at me! Take a good look. I look like a milkmaid, and he picked me. I thought I had died and gone to heaven when he chose me to be his wife, the mother of his children. We have three wonderful children, a boy and two girls. I had no help, so I had to do everything myself. Geoff was always away with the training and the flight school and all that it involves. I know now that there were times when he could have come home, but he didn’t. He wanted bright lights and parties and women, not a milkmaid wife and children who needed and wanted what he wasn’t prepared to give.”
Myra patted Allison’s arm again, encouraging her to continue as she worked at processing the information Allison was volunteering.
“A young woman called on the phone one day. The children were being so rambunctious. I had worked all day and was tired and trying to cook and do laundry, and she said she wanted to come and see me to talk about Geoffrey. I don’t know why I allowed it, but I did. She was so beautiful. She wore makeup, and her hair was so chic. She was dressed like a model and had diamonds in her ears and on her wrists and fingers. My daughter asked me when she left if she was a princess.
“I cried all night and couldn’t go to work the next day. I just stayed home with the children and played with them the entire time. The princess’s name was Pamela Adamson. Lady Pamela Adamson. She said Geoffrey wanted a divorce but wasn’t able to face me. She said I could have the children. Mind you, she said I could have my own children. She said I could have the house, cottage, actually, as long as I continued to pay for it. She said Geoffrey would send me a check every month to help support the children. I told her to get out of my house and never come back. I also told her in no uncertain terms what she could tell Geoffrey. That was just a week before Geoffrey had his accident. It’s probably all my fault. His mind was on her and me and the children, and not on what he should have been doing.”
“Dear God,” was all Myra could think of to say.
“All I wanted was to see Geoff, to tell him if he wanted a divorce, it was okay. I don’t want a husband who doesn’t love me. But I was hoping he would love the children and want to be part of their lives. I wanted that so desperately, but I don’t think he cares one whit about them. How do you tell your children their father doesn’t love them? That was an issue with Geoff when his mother told him about…that man you came here with. I am sorry I was rude to you when we spoke earlier. I just don’t know what to do.”
She was sobbing, so Myra gathered her into her arms and tried to soothe her the best she could.
“And you still love Geoffrey?”
“Yes. No. Oh, I don’t know. I loved the man I married. He was so kind, so nice to me. We had such wonderful times. He was so full of life. So dashing. He loved flying and was decorated many times. When the children were born, he was so proud. At least that’s the way it seemed at the time. Then his mother died, and he changed overnight. He wasn’t the same man anymore. His mother told him about…the man you came with. He coul
dn’t accept or handle it. He started to drink. Then there were the women. Not just one or two but a whole string of them. Mum told me about them, so I’m not sure if it’s true or not. She never liked Geoff, but mothers don’t lie to their children no matter how old they are, so in the end I accepted it, and Geoff knew I knew. He started giving me less money and I had to get a job and put the children in nursery school. Pilots don’t make all that much money, and he needed more and more to support his flamboyant lifestyle.
“Then the health issues started, and he came back home for about a year until he was on the mend. We…we got along a little better, and he promised so many things. Then when the doctors told him he could go back to his squadron, it started all over again.”
Myra sensed movement out of the corner of her eye. She turned to see Charles standing on the path that led to the front door. Unconsciously, she gripped Allison’s arm a little tighter. She knew the news was bad, she could see it in the droop of Charles’s shoulders. He shook his head from side to side. It was over.
Allison took that moment to look up and wipe at her eyes. She saw what Myra saw. If Myra’s grip on her arm hadn’t been as firm as it was, she would have slid to the wet ground.
“You can handle this,” Myra said gently but firmly. “I’m right here beside you. I won’t let anything happen to you. Now, if you want to see your husband one last time to say good-bye, that man standing there will arrange it.”
Her voice shaky, Allison looked up at Myra. “Geoffrey said good-bye to me a long time ago. I just want to go home now to my children. Thank you for…for talking to me.”
“Look at me, Allison. What you say may well be true, that Geoffrey said good-bye a long time ago. Obviously you didn’t respond back then. You need to say your good-bye now. Later, you’ll regret it if you don’t.”
13. Under the Radar Page 13
