Running from Fate

by Connelly, Rose

  “He was way too old for you,” Sarah interrupted. “Besides, Mira wouldn’t have noticed him anyway. She’s too busy mooning over James.”

  “I’m not that bad,” Mira countered.

  “Yes you are,” they both said in unison.

  Mira could feel her face starting to heat. “It’s not that I didn’t want to go.” She said in an effort to change the subject. “It’s just that I would have felt bad going somewhere with your parent’s when I haven’t actually talked to mine in months.” It was strange to realize that it was the truth. Perhaps she should think about calling them.

  “Are you trying to tell me,” Lily said, breaking into her thoughts, “that it had nothing to do with the fact that Sister Beatrice forbid you from going anywhere for a week?”

  “It was rather funny,” Sarah mused. “Falling asleep during mass can be concealed. If you’re kneeling you can put your head on your arms and you just look very pious, but snoring is not something you can hide.” She laughed and ducked as a pillow flew toward her.

  **********************************************************

  It was late at night at night and Mira couldn’t seem to sleep. She tossed and turned trying to get comfortable, but something was bothering her and she couldn’t figure out what the problem was. Sighing, she gave up. In times of unease she had always found that a large helping of ice cream was just what she needed to calm her, well put her into a sugar coma anyway, which was almost the same thing. And she was pretty sure there was a carton hidden in the freezer. As she was considering waking her roommates for a midnight raid on the kitchens a soft knock came on the door.

  “Mira, dear are you in there?” a voice called from the hallway. “There’s someone here to see you. He came all the way from Boston. I’ve put him in the front parlor for now, but come as soon as you can. He said it was very important.”

  That had to be Sister Mary Alice, Mira thought with a smile. She was the only sister who called everybody dear. She was also the only one who would comfortably hold a conversation through a door without knowing whether or not someone was on the other side.

  As the footsteps retreated, Mira climbed out of bed and pulled on a robe. Tiptoeing so she wouldn’t wake her friends, she headed for the door. Who could be waiting for her? It couldn’t be her parents, they would have called first, and she hadn’t talked to her old friends in over a month. Her overactive, hormone filled brain came up with an insane idea. It could be James. Perhaps, she thought dreamily, he had finally realized that he couldn’t live without her.

  By the time she screeched to a halt in front of the parlor, she was flushed and out of breath. She took a moment to calm herself, pushed open the door and froze. It wasn’t James at all, she realized with some deflation, and she had been stupid to think it was. He was off at Cornell. Instead, it was Patrick Kelly, his father and her honorary godfather, who sat in the faded armchair in front of the fireplace.

  Physically, he appeared the same as he always had with his bright red hair and blue eyes. With his tall, broad-shouldered body, he had always reminded her somewhat of Santa Clause, but there was nothing cheerful about him today. He looked defeated.

  “Hello Mira,” he said as he slowly stood up and faced her. “We need to talk. Why don’t you come over here and sit down.”

  “What are you doing here Uncle Pat?” she said with confusion coating her voice. “Did my parents send you to pick me up? Have they changed their minds? Will I be going home? Wait a minute,” she croaked in dawning horror. “Is James ok?”

  “As far as I know my son is fine.” He ran fingers through his hair and looked at her, his eyes pleading. “Now come have a seat.”

  “Why does your voice sound so hoarse?” As a horrible suspicion crept up on her, her own voice cracked. Because of the two men’s friendship, her dad had always told her that Pat would look after her if he couldn’t. Tears started coursing down her face and she wiped at them with hands that had begun to shake.

  “I’m sorry baby,” he said. “There was a horrible accident and your parents were run off the road. The doctors tried, but there was nothing they could do.”

  “No, oh no.” She would never have the chance to tell her mother she was sorry for yelling at her. Never again would she curl up on the couch while her dad told her stories of Ireland, his brogue thickening with every word. Overwhelmed by the loss, her knees buckled and she crumpled to the floor.

  Pat walked forward and lifted her up, cradling her like a baby. She clung to him as if he was the only stable thing left in a world gone mad.

  Chapter 2

  Cornell University

  Ithaca, NY

  James dumped his suitcase on the single bed in his small apartment and seriously considered taking a shower. He had just come back from a week-long conference in Dallas and he was wrung out, but the light on his answering machine was blinking. There was always the possibility that it was something important. He reluctantly turned away from the bathroom.

  Just as he was about to push play someone knocked loudly. With a muttered curse, he stalked across the small living room with its second-hand furniture and pulled open the door.

  “Mr. Kelly,” the burly police officer said brusquely. “I need you to come with me. We have some questions to ask regarding your relationship with Sean Sweeney.”

  “Well,” James replied just as curtly. “Why don’t you go and ask him instead.” He started to close the door, so exhausted he could have slept standing up. Perhaps bed first. The door was suddenly pushed open, shoving him back.

  “I would ask him,” the man stated calmly, “but that’s impossible. Sean Sweeney is dead.”

  James stumbled backward and hit the coffee table. He would have fallen if the officer hadn’t grabbed his shoulder. “I don’t understand,” he croaked as anguish thickened his voice. “How can he be dead?” And then it hit him. There was only one reason the police would come. “Did somebody kill him?”

  “You have to come with me,” the officer said.

  Still in a daze James allowed himself to be maneuvered out the door and into the police car. He couldn’t believe that the man, who had been his mentor, his friend, and more like his father than his boss, was dead. That he would never see him again.

  He was so mired in depression that it wasn’t until he was sitting in a hard chair with a harsh light above him and two uniformed men shooting questions at him that he realized something else. They thought he had done it.

  Oh they weren’t saying as much, but they might as well have just come out and accused him. They wanted to know how long he had known Sean. They questioned him about his whereabouts the night Sean’s car had been forced off the road and tumbled down a cliff face, killing both him and his wife. They relentlessly prodded him about his place in Sean’s company, his years working there and his status as the heir apparent, slated to take over when Sean retired.

  James answered all their questions in a quiet monotone. Giving them no more and no less than they asked for. The whole thing felt like a bad dream and all he wanted to do was go home and forget, at least for a moment, in the oblivion of sleep. He couldn’t understand why they wouldn’t let him, but just kept going over and over the same ground.

  Finally, when James felt like he was about to go crazy and give them an actual reason to arrest him, the officer that he had dubbed ‘the bulldog’ sat down across from him and slapped his hands on the table.

  “Tell me,” he growled as he leaned forward, almost touching James’ face with the curling ends of his mustache. “What did you feel when you found out Sean Sweeney was facing financial problems and he was planning to bring outside investors into the business you had been promised?” His right eyebrow arched. “I bet you feel stupid now, huh? Killed the poor bastard to keep the company and you won’t even get it. I heard he left you a measly three grand.”

  “What,” James gasped, he wouldn’t believe it. The man had been a better father to him than his own. “Sean wouldn�
�t do that,” he stated firmly. “He wouldn’t do something that drastic without discussing it with me.”

  “Exactly.” Bulldog sat back and a satisfied smile crossed his face. “From what Sean’s daughter told me you were as close as father and son. So, what I want to know is why you’re pretending you didn’t know?”

  But he hadn’t known, James thought, as doubt crept in. Had he been betrayed? Could he have been that wrong about Sean Sweeney? The money wasn’t the issue and neither, really, was the loss of the company, although it would hurt. Had the man’s word meant nothing? Maybe the affection had only gone one way and he had been nothing, but an underpaid worked reaching for the carrot. He supposed that it didn’t really matter at this point, he mused, as anger poured in to replace the sorrow. He would have to fend for himself as he had always done.

  His back straightened till it felt like snapping and his eyes hardened. “I want a lawyer,” he said.

  The cop shrugged. “It’s your right,” he said, “but you still have to spend some time in our lovely jail.”

  “What? That’s ridiculous. You have no evidence.”

  A satisfied smirk passed over the man’s face. “Doesn’t matter,” he said. “I hear that you resisted arrest and forced one of the city’s finest to practically break down your door.”

  James would have cursed, but he wouldn’t give the bastard the satisfaction.

  Three agonizing days later a break came in the case. A man named Michael Lindsey walked into the police station and confessed. Apparently, he had been selling shoddy, potentially dangerous lumber to Sean’s company and Sean had found out and confronted him.

  He had panicked, followed Sean when he left town and forced his car off a cliff. It was obvious to anyone who saw him that the man was not only drunk, but also not entirely sane. His car, however, had been spotted close to the murder scene. He was thrown in a jail and two days later his son found him dead in his cell of apparent suicide.

  The day that James walked out of the police station for the last time he consciously put his past behind him and built a wall around it. From now on he would depend on no one but himself.

  Chapter 3

  April 3rd, 2009

  San Francisco, California

  Despite the pleasant day outside, the courtroom was sweltering, packed with those who wanted to be seen and those whose job it was to take their pictures. There were even a couple of legitimate media outlets and newspapers represented. Mira leaned back on the bench and wondered when it had all become such a circus.

  Granted, she really should have seen it coming. True, they weren’t in the same league as Los Angeles, but it was still California and the nature of the crime demanded attention, especially with the environment such a hot-button issue and politicians always gunning for re-election. Of course, no matter what happened she’d be looking for work. One didn’t accuse the CEO of their company from falsifying documents to obtain a valuable piece of land without losing their job. It didn’t matter that the land was supposed to be protected from development.

  Sarah leaned over and squeezed her knee, pulling her from her thoughts. She smiled at her friend and glanced to the right where the jury foreman was just coming out of a door. The jurors filed out behind her.

  When they were all seated the judge spoke. “Have you come to a decision?” she asked.

  The foreman stood up, holding a piece of paper. “We have Your Honor,” she said.

  “In the case of Mitchell Haines versus the State of California, how do you find the defendant?”

  The foreman kept her eyes on Mr. Haines as she spoke, “We find the defendant guilty.”

  The courtroom erupted. People shouted and pushed forward, flash bulbs went off everywhere. It was at least five minutes before the judge was able to regain control.

  “If everyone would please be seated,” she said. “Not you Mr. Haines.”

  Mitchell stood back up, his expensive lawyers on either side.

  “It is the decision of this court,” the judge said. “That you be stripped of your license and fined the sum of one million dollars.”

  He nodded coolly.

  “Court is adjourned.”

  The circus temporarily over, people scrambled from their seats, the reporters setting up outside to catch Mitchell Haines and, probably, Mira, when they exited the building. She stayed in her seat, reluctant to face them again. They had barely left her alone since they had discovered her identity two weeks ago.

  “Come on,” Lily said. “You’ve got to face them sometime.”

  Mira sighed and leaned back, closing her eyes. “I know,” she said, “but I just want to be left alone so I can try and pick up the pieces of my life.”

  “All right,” Sarah said as she stood and pulled Mira with her. “Lily and I will go first and play bodyguard.”

  Lily nodded. “The sooner we get through it the faster we can have a drink.”

  “Not me,” Sarah reminded her. “I’m pregnant.”

  “Fine,” Lily said, “but I still want a nice expensive glass of wine and I’m sure Mira does too.”

  “Just as long as we go someplace that serves food. I’m starving.”

  The willowy blond and the curvy black-haired woman linked arms and walked toward the doors, arguing the whole time.

  Mira grinned and followed them. There was no one like her two best friends to pull her from a funk. Lily and Sarah were already out the door when she felt someone walking up behind her and turned around. How he had managed to get away from his lawyer and any media straggles she didn’t know, but Mitchell Haines was all by himself. She glanced around the room, looking for anyone else, but they were alone. Her instincts kicked in as he got closer, telling her to flee, but she ignored them and straightened her spine. She would not be intimidated.

  He passed within mere feet of her, keeping his gaze forward.

  Mira breathed a sigh of relief and her shoulders started to relax when he stopped and turned. His eyes were brown and she had always thought they were kind of lackluster, but not now. Today they were completely emotionless and ice cold, yet she had a feeling they concealed some dark, terrifying emotion. For what seemed like an eternity she was frozen, pined to the spot by his gaze. She shivered.

  As quickly as he had looked at her, he turned and started forward again, disappearing out the door.

  Mira shook herself and followed suit, allowing the warm sunlight to banish the last of her chills.

  By the time she left the restaurant with Lily and Sarah, stomach content and a couple of glasses of wine lending a glow to the early evening sky, she had put the creepy encounter with Mitchell Haines off to simple nerves and was ready to move on with her life.

  She told Lily and Sarah the exact same thing the next morning when she urged them to return to their normal lives. It had been wonderful having her best friends there for support, but now she just needed a little time alone to unwind and take stock of where she was.

  Chapter 4

  The very next week, as Mira was working on a sketch in her top-floor studio, a knock sounded on the door. Laying her charcoal aside, she stretched her arms above her head, trying to get the kinks out, and jogged down the two flights of stairs. Pulling the door open, she saw a tall, balding man in an impeccably tailored gray suit. He looked a bit familiar although she couldn’t quite put her finger on where she had seen him before. “Can I help you?” she asked.

  “Mira Anders?”

  “Yes.”

  “This is for you.” He reached into his inner suit pocket and pulled out a thick envelope. As soon as she took it, he turned on his heel and walked to a shiny black Lexus that was parked by the curb.

  Mira shook her head and shut the door. Crossing the bright, tiled foyer, she turned left, through a wide arch, and entered the open kitchen and dining area. She laid the letter on the marble-topped breakfast bar and went to pour herself a cup of coffee. The correct amount of cream and sugar added, she slid onto one of the padded barstools, s
at the cup on a coaster, and opened the envelope.

  For a few seconds she could barely make sense of what she was looking at. She skimmed through the sheets hoping that she had read it wrong, but she hadn’t. J&J Architectural Company — well Mitchell Haines — was suing her for breach of contract.

  She put the papers down, chugged her coffee, and went for another cup, hoping to stimulate her lagging brain cells. There had to be something she could do, she thought as she sipped her second cup. Her boss was a criminal, a jury of his peers had found him guilty, surely he couldn’t sue her for turning him in.

  Just to be on the safe side she picked a lawyer from the phone book and asked for a consultation. He agreed to see her immediately so she climbed to her second-floor bedroom, exchanged her shorts and t-shirt for a pencil skirt and simple green blouse, and headed into the city.

  Barely fifteen minutes after she entered the office she knew exactly why he had been able to see her so quickly as he hung up the phone and faced her.

  “Mrs. Anders,” he said.

  “My husband died many years ago,” she said. “I’d prefer it if you called me Ms.”

  “Ms. Anders,” he corrected. “I just got off the phone with Mr. Haines’ lawyer, well off the phone with one of the members of his legal team, should I say.”

  “And,” Mira prodded.

  “You did sign a confidentiality agreement when you went to work for J&J Architectural, did you not?”

  “Well yes, but under the circumstances I wouldn’t think that would be an issue. I was acting as a concerned citizen and in the best interest of both California law and the environment. Surely, he doesn’t have a leg to stand on?”