Gone in a Flash

by Susan Rogers Cooper

  Bess was awake, reading her world history homework, of all things. ‘What?’ she said in a not unfriendly tone, but not a friendly one either. She didn’t take her eyes off her book.

  ‘We need to talk!’ Megan said, jumping on Bess’s bed and crossing her legs.

  ‘Huh?’ Bess said, acting like she was so engrossed in freaking world history!

  Megan put her hand on the top of the textbook and pulled it down, thus exposing her sister’s eyes. ‘You really think we’re not going to talk about this?’

  Bess sighed. ‘I suppose you mean the whole Graham and Alicia thing.’

  ‘Ah, duh!’ Megan replied.

  Bess smiled. ‘I think it was really sweet the way he came running to the rescue like that. It was a good idea for you to call him.’

  ‘Again, I say “duh!” If I hadn’t called him, he never would have forgiven either one of us.’

  ‘True,’ Bess said. ‘I don’t know why I didn’t think to call him. I guess I was just so overwrought by the kidnapping.’

  ‘Overwrought?’ Megan picked up the world history book and shook it.

  ‘What are you doing?’ Bess demanded.

  ‘Looking for the romance novel you have hidden in here. Overwrought? Only Mom uses that word, and then only in her historical romances.’

  Slightly embarrassed, Bess took the offensive. ‘I was worried, OK? I happen to like Alicia a lot!’

  ‘Are you saying I don’t like Alicia?’ Megan demanded.

  Holding her head high and not looking at her sister, she said, ‘I didn’t say that, but obviously you must think it, or why else would you go there?’

  Megan hit her with the world history text. Bess grabbed it away and hit her back with it.

  ‘Ouch,’ Megan said.

  ‘Yeah, ouch! Stop hitting me!’ Bess said.

  ‘I just came in here because I’m worried about the family dynamic,’ Megan said.

  Bess laughed. ‘And you made fun of me saying “overwrought”? “Family dynamic” my ass!’

  ‘I’m serious,’ Megan said, ‘and tease me all you want, but that is exactly what I’m worried about! Graham said he’s not going back to Austin, Dad won’t let him and Alicia be on the same floor at night, because of, you know,’ she said, using a fairly descriptive and unpleasant hand gesture that used the index finger of one hand and a circle made of the index finger and thumb of the other. ‘So does Alicia stay downstairs with Mom forever? You know Mom and Dad just made up after Dad leaving, so this can’t be good for their marriage—’

  ‘Mom and Dad will figure that out. They’re tighter now than they’ve been in a while,’ Bess said. ‘Meanwhile, we still have those bad guys out there.’

  Megan shrugged. ‘But that’s all over for us, right? I mean, they got what they wanted. We don’t have to be involved anymore.’

  ‘Ah, excuse me?’ Bess said, sarcasm dripping off her tongue. ‘Have you met our mother? No way is she going to leave this alone.’

  ‘But that’s why Dad left in the first place! Surely she won’t get involved in this kind of thing again!’ Megan said, distraught at the thought of her dad moving out again.

  ‘Cheer up, Megs,’ Bess said, playfully hitting her sister on the arm. ‘At least we’ll have Calvin the Beautiful again!’

  Megan did immediately cheer up. ‘Ooo, that’s right! Yay!’

  FRIDAY

  It was after ten when they finally left the restaurant in Columbus, and Mr Brown figured he really didn’t want to deal with the Houston problem when he was this tired, so they spent the night in a motel and, bright and early Friday morning, nine a.m., Mr Brown and Mr Jones were finally on their way. It was a long trip, about three hours total from Black Cat Ridge to Houston, if you counted the traffic in Houston, and who wouldn’t count that? And as far as Mr Brown could tell, Mr Jones hadn’t stopped talking once. Mostly he complained about his ex-wives. At first Mr Brown thought he was talking about just one, but then it dawned on him that – since Mr Jones complained about two different names – there might have been more than one wife. He wasn’t really paying much attention, and he really didn’t care how many wives Mr Jones had had.

  He couldn’t help thinking that since Mr Smith was dead, the fifty gees from his boss he was supposed to pay these two could easily come to him, especially if Mr Jones were to have an accident somewhere between where they were at the moment and their final destination.

  It was a tad problematic, however. He couldn’t shoot him and have it look like an accident. He wasn’t big enough to strangle and/or smother Mr Jones. And he didn’t have any poison on him. For a while he fantasized about slamming Mr Jones on the head with something, then faking a car accident, but there were problems with that scenario, also. Like, what if the accident was worse than he planned and he got knocked out too? And, even if it went perfectly, how would he get the rest of the way to Houston? And wouldn’t the Highway Patrol keep him around for questions, especially with a stolen car?

  Mr Brown considered opening the passenger-side door and pushing Mr Jones out while going seventy-five miles an hour down the interstate, but there was the problem with reaching over Mr Jones to do it, and then unlocking his seatbelt. As stupid as Mr Jones was, even he was liable to catch on to that.

  Considering he still had some time, Mr Brown decided to keep thinking about it. A solution was bound to come to him.

  It was a rough night. After almost twenty-five years of marriage, you get used to your partner’s sleeping habits. Willis snored at about a medium decibel, and loved to throw his arm around me in his sleep and pull me close. Almost always woke me up. But sleeping with a teenaged girl was a whole different ball of wax. For one thing, she seemed to think her half of the bed was in the middle, and with those exceedingly long legs of hers, the middle became the entire bed. She didn’t snore. What she did was grind her teeth and mumble. In my opinion, for what it’s worth, that’s much worse. I was exhausted when the alarm went off.

  Even though it was Friday, we’d decided to get the girls back in school. As there apparently was no longer any danger to them, now those men had got what they wanted, there was no reason to keep them out. And I figured the sooner Alicia got back into a routine, the sooner her life could get back to normal. I’d called Luna the evening before and implored her to find Alicia’s satchel. Personally, I never wanted to see the damn thing again, but Alicia loved it for some reason, and wanted it. I was determined to get it back for her.

  As I came out of the bedroom to start the coffee, there was a knock on the back door. It was still locked, so I opened it. Luna stood there with the satchel.

  ‘I had to promise Donaldson I’d bake him a cake, so you owe me. Specifically one homemade cake. You know I don’t cook.’

  ‘What flavor?’ I asked, taking the satchel from her.

  ‘Chocolate with cherries and pecans,’ she said. ‘Do I smell coffee?’

  ‘Come in. It’s almost ready.’

  She came in and we interrupted the flow of the coffee machine to snatch two cups, doctored them, and went to the kitchen table.

  ‘So I heard there was some drama at the station last night,’ she said. ‘The stars of which were Graham and Alicia.’

  ‘Oh, God, don’t start. We’ve got a problem on our hands. They’re in love.’

  Luna grinned. ‘That’s what you get for taking in cute strays, Pugh.’

  ‘I heard that,’ Alicia said as she shuffled in from my bedroom, hair disheveled, wearing a man’s pajama top (Willis’s, not Graham’s), and panties. She poured a cup of coffee and came and sat down with us.

  ‘Hey, I said cute,’ Luna said.

  ‘You did,’ Alicia said, ‘and I thank you.’

  ‘You’re welcome,’ Luna said.

  ‘Any word on the misters?’ Alicia asked.

  ‘Not a peep,’ Luna said. ‘But there was a possible sighting of the car on Interstate 10 headed for Houston.’

  ‘That man, James Unger, the one who was killed at
the Driscoll, he was from Houston, right?’ I asked.

  ‘Yeah. And that’s where his company is.’ She was silent for a moment, then pulled her cell phone out of her pocket. She hit a number and said, ‘Donaldson, please, this is Luna.’ She waited a minute then said, ‘Chief ? Hey, it’s Luna. They’re definitely headed for Houston. That’s where James Unger lived, and where his company is. Maybe we need to be talking to his widow.’

  She listened for a moment, then said, ‘Yeah. I’m on my way. You call ’em, ’k?’

  With the phone still pressed to her ear, she got up and walked out my back door, no goodbye.

  ‘Goodbye!’ I yelled as she headed for her car in our shared driveway. ‘Rude!’ I said as I took another sip of coffee. Damn, that was good. I probably needed to make another pot. This was definitely going to be a two-pot morning.

  ‘Mom!’ Alicia said and laughed, stretching those three letters to two syllables. ‘She’s on the hunt! Leave her alone.’

  ‘Well, we’re out of it!’ I said, standing up and going to the fridge to start breakfast. But I still didn’t know what was going on. And that’s something that pisses me off. I really need to know, you know? ‘Put on some pants and go upstairs and knock on your door. Tell Dad he needs to get up. I’m not sure he has his al—’

  ‘I used my phone,’ Willis said. Funny, I hadn’t heard his heavy clomp on the stairs. ‘Gotta take a shower.’

  ‘Cereal or eggs?’ I asked him.

  ‘I’m starved. How about farmer’s breakfast?’

  ‘Ooo, yeah!’ Alicia said. ‘Do we have any tortillas?’

  ‘I think so,’ I said, checking out the shelves of the refrigerator.

  ‘Yeah, then I can take a breakfast taco on the road!’ Willis said.

  I stood up. ‘OK, then do you want just breakfast tacos or—’

  ‘You have any of those canned biscuits?’ he asked.

  We were still in breakfast negotiations when Bess wandered in. ‘We’re having breakfast tacos!’ Alicia told her.

  Bess, who’d looked a little bedraggled, perked up. ‘Really? On a Friday?’

  I smiled. ‘It’s a celebration,’ I said.

  I got out bacon, cheese, eggs, a can of biscuits, the tortillas, a leftover baked potato, and the picante sauce. It was going to be a fiesta!

  ‘Somebody wake up Megan,’ I said.

  ‘I’ll do it!’ Alicia said, running for the stairs.

  I grinned at her back. ‘Put on some pants first, then wake up Graham while you’re up there,’ I said.

  ‘Oh, OK,’ she said, as if that wasn’t exactly where she was headed.

  Before Willis left for work, he pulled me into the bedroom and gave me a superior kiss. Then asked, ‘Did I hear you say to Alicia, and I quote, “we’re out of it”?’

  ‘Out of what?’ I asked, thinking about maybe getting some more smooches.

  ‘This Unger mess.’

  ‘Oh,’ I said. ‘Yes, I said that. And we are.’

  He looked at me, his head slightly tilted, like a dog eyeing something interesting. ‘You’re not dying inside to know what the hell’s going on?’

  ‘All I know is the girls are safe and we’re well out of it,’ I said, wishing I meant it, and headed to the bed to straighten the covers.

  ‘If you’re trying to ignore this for my sake—’ he started.

  ‘Not at all,’ I said, keeping my back to him as I fixed the bed, afraid he’d see the lie in my eyes.

  I guess he didn’t need to see my eyes. ‘You’re full of crap,’ he said, a smile in his voice. ‘You wanna dive into this with both feet, don’t you?’

  ‘I have no idea what you mean,’ I tried again.

  He came up behind me and kissed my neck. ‘You have my permission to get as involved in this as you’d like—’ he started.

  I swirled around. ‘You’re permission? Did you just say you gave me your permission?’

  He backed away. ‘Ah, maybe I misspoke,’ he said, heading for the door. With his hand on the knob, he said, ‘But you do have it!’ And then made a beeline out the bedroom door and through the kitchen to the back door, laughing his head off.

  ‘OK, so what are we gonna do in Houston?’ Mr Jones asked Mr Brown.

  ‘Gotta meet with the big boss. Give him the flash drive,’ Mr Brown said.

  ‘I thought you were the big boss,’ Mr Jones said.

  Mr Brown snorted. ‘Hardly. This is some big, hairy deal going down. I’m just the hired help, like you and Smith, except the big boss hired me and I hired you – which makes me, technically, your boss.’

  ‘What’s on that flash drive thing anyway?’ Mr Jones asked.

  Mr Brown shrugged. ‘That’s above our pay grade. Need to know basis only.’

  ‘Huh?’ Mr Jones asked.

  Mr Brown sighed. ‘God, you’re stupid,’ he said, rather good-naturedly for him. ‘You ever serve?’

  ‘Serve what?’ Mr Jones asked, totally confused at this point.

  ‘Your country, man! Your goddamn country! You ever serve?’

  ‘Oh, you mean like the army or something?’ Mr Jones asked.

  Again Mr Brown sighed. ‘Yeah, Jones, I mean like the army or something.’

  ‘No. I tried once but I couldn’t pass the test – you know, the written one?’

  ‘Yeah,’ Brown said, pretty sure he believed the truth in that statement. ‘Well, I did. USMC. Served in the first Iraq war. Got a purple heart.’ He pounded on his thigh. ‘Schrapnal,’ he said. ‘Looked like hamburger for a while there. Had to put the skin of a pig on my thigh.’ He laughed heartily. ‘But don’t try to throw me!’

  Mr Jones said, ‘Huh?’

  ‘Pig skin?’ Mr Brown said. ‘Like a football? Don’t try to throw me, get it?’

  ‘Oh, yeah sure.’ Mr Jones laughed. ‘Funny,’ he said.

  ‘Not when you have to explain it.’

  They drove in silence for a while, then Mr Brown said, ‘Look, when we get there, I think it would be best if you stayed in the car, you know? This guy, he doesn’t want that many people seeing his face and, fact of the matter, it’s a pretty ugly face. I think you’d be safer staying in the car.’

  ‘What about you?’ Mr Jones asked. ‘You’ve seen his face? Is that gonna be a problem for you?’

  ‘Naw, I should be OK,’ Mr Brown said, although there wasn’t a lot of confidence in his voice.

  ‘Well, just leave the keys, in case he kills you or something,’ Mr Jones said.

  NINE

  FRIDAY

  ‘OMG!’ D’Wanda whisper-screamed. ‘Is she OK?’

  ‘She’s fine,’ Megan said. ‘But guess what?’

  ‘What?’ Azalea asked breathlessly.

  ‘I called Graham and he came home immediately, and he and Alicia have declared their love!’

  D’Wanda looked at her twin, who appeared crestfallen.

  Megan covered her mouth with her hand, then removed it and touched Azalea on the arm. ‘OMG, Az, I’m so sorry! I’ve been so wrapped up in this whole drama—’

  ‘That’s OK,’ Azalea said. ‘It’s not like he even knew I was alive.’

  ‘Oh, that’s not true—’ Megan started, but D’Wanda interrupted. ‘Don’t, Megan. No way you’re gonna make it better.’ She punched her twin on the arm. ‘Get over it, Azalea. He don’t love you, never did, never will. But there’s more fish than him in the sea.’ She pointed with her head to the other side of the cafeteria. ‘See Logan over there? He be watching you like a hawk, girl.’

  ‘I don’t even know Logan, and how do you know he’s watching me and not you? We’re identical!’

  ‘’Cause he be looking at you right now!’ D’Wanda, who liked to pretend she came from the mean streets of Houston or Austin, or at the very least Codderville, rather than a forty-five-hundred-square-foot house on Storybook Lane in the affluent community of Black Cat Ridge, said.

  Azalea looked over at Logan, who quickly looked away. Azalea’s eyes went back to the tabletop and what wa
s left of her lunch. ‘He’s not Graham,’ she said in a small voice.

  Megan patted her on the back and shared an eye-roll with D’Wanda over her twin’s lowered head.

  FRIDAY

  VERA’S STORY

  The lobby was teaming with people: some of them with our Baptist meeting and some of them not. You could tell the Baptists by their choice of attire. No fancy Armani suits on our men or those red-soled tramp heels for our ladies. We looked like normal Americans in polyester pantsuits and button-down shirts. Gerald and I found what they call a ‘conversation nook’ (I found this out on HGTV – so cable is good for something), sat down on a really soft leather sofa, and put the two pieces of paper side by side on the coffee table – the note left on Rachael’s bed when her belongings were spirited away, and her signature on the bill at The Salon. And sure enough, they were not a match. Not even close.

  Me and Gerald just looked at each other. Finally I said, ‘Oh, goodness. I think something really happened to her.’

  ‘I think you’re right,’ he said, staring at the two writing specimens. ‘Should we tell Brother Joe?’

  I shook my head. ‘No,’ I said, ‘let me think on this some.’

  He nodded and we headed off to choir practice. Our concert was to be tomorrow night and we still had a lot of rehearsing to do. Gerald had a duet with a woman from the Louisiana church, and they practiced that up to lunch. I tried calling E.J. again, and just when I started to hang up, she picked up the phone.