Sex, Lies & Sweet Tea

by Kris Calvert

  “Callahan,” I answered the phone bluntly.

  “It’s Randall, sir. I’m on my way to meet her now.”

  “How did you find her?”

  “She called, sir. Car troubles.”

  “Where is she?”

  “Highway 331. I’m on my way.”

  “Find her. I want her, Dax and Polly off the road. Everyone goes to Lone Oak until I find this asshole. Understand?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Have you checked on my mother and Sam’s grandmother?”

  “Yes, sir. They’re fine. There’s an Alabama state trooper at each door.”

  “Call me when you have Sam.” I hung up and walked out my door.

  Jack was almost to the airfield when I arrived. Anxious to get going, I paced the tarmac. Shoving my hands in my pockets looking for loose change or anything else to occupy my idle hands I found it—the small car belonging to Dax was still in my pocket. An airport worker smiled at me when he saw it in my hand.

  “My son has a blue-million of those.”

  I could only nod. I walked inside the private terminal and sat in the executive lounge waiting for Jack to arrive and thought about Sam and Dax. I would never forgive myself if anything happened to either of them. I pulled out the small car and rolled it over and over in my hand.

  “Can I get you anything?” asked the leggy hostess walking through the lounge.

  “No, thank you.”

  I watched her walk away and had an idea. “Actually, I need a piece of paper and a stamped envelope. That’s probably an odd request.”

  “I’ll see what I can do,” she replied with a smile.

  Five minutes later she returned carrying two pieces of stationery and a matching envelope, pre-stamped. “It’s not the most elegant,” she said as she handed them to me. “But hopefully it’ll work for you.”

  “It’s perfect. Thank you, darlin’,” I drawled, suddenly slipping back into my Alabama accent.

  I sat with the paper, deciding what to say. How would I tell her I never meant to hurt her? I wanted nothing more than to protect her for the rest of our lives—if she would have me.

  My dearest Samantha,

  I miss you. I miss everything about you. I hate the way things ended. I know you’re upset with me for not telling you all of my reasons for coming home, but please understand I didn’t want to drag you into the very ugly world I must exist in as an agent. You’re far too good for that, and you mean way too much to me.

  I had many opportunities to fill you in on the investigation. But when I realized how deep you were into something you were oblivious to, I was frightened for you. Desperate people who steal and lie do desperate things to go unnoticed. Miller and Little are just a cold, hard example of that. I don’t want you exposed to the foulness of a taxicab, let alone anything as vile as an FBI raid.

  Since we’ve been together, I’ve never felt more whole or more certain as to what I want in my life. Because you knocked me in the head, twice I might add, my life is forever changed. You can’t go back and take that away, and I can’t go back to the person I was before I met you.

  Samantha, I’ve loved two women in my life. The first is slowing letting go of me, her mind like a spent star, fading into darkness. The second, the light of my heart, and my reason for being. It will be more than I can bear if you both slip away from me.

  No matter what, I will continue to love you, and only you, until my dying day. Please don’t let me go. I’m no good without you.

  I love you,

  Mac

  p.s. Please return Dax’s car for me.

  I put the small car in the envelope with my letter and sealed it, taking it to the front desk.

  “Will you mail this for me, please?” I asked the young man.

  “My pleasure, sir.”

  My pocket buzzed.

  “Talk to me Randall.”

  “Yes, sir, I have all of them.”

  “You have Sam?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Good. Any sign of Hector?”

  “Yes, sir. He was tailing her from the health club.”

  “I’ll be in Shadeland by midnight. Don’t let her out of your sight.”

  I hung up in a rage. I needed to be in Shadeland and I was kicking myself for leaving in the first place.

  “Mr. Callahan?” asked the hostess.

  “Yes.”

  “Your plane has arrived.

  30

  SAMANTHA

  I could hear the buzzing and soft ring of the phone in my yoga bag in the back of the room. The class was almost over and I tried to keep my mind centered. Looking over to Polly, she gave me the evil eye, knowing I was the one person who brought her phone into the studio.

  “Sorry,” I mouthed. I needed to get out of the house, and Polly and Dax thought this was a good idea. Dax was in the kids’ center and I was just trying to clear my mind of the last two weeks.

  As soon as class was over, I pulled out my phone to see what I’d missed. Four calls from Mac.

  “Aren’t you going to listen to them?” Polly asked.

  “I don’t want to listen to anything he has to say,” I said, picking up my bag and walking to the door, anxious to get Dax and head home.

  “I’ll get the car and meet you up front.” Polly was happy to have her own wheels back in running order again.

  I nodded. “We’ll be right out.”

  I retrieved Dax and found him running in circles with two other boys, falling to the ground and laughing hysterically when they got too dizzy to stand. It made me smile to hear him laugh, and God knew I needed a reason to smile.

  “Let’s go, Dax.”

  “Mommy!” he squealed, running into my arms.

  “Polly is at the front door for us.” I saddled him on my hip and walked down the stairs to find Polly waiting in her VW Passat as promised.

  “Who wants ice cream?” I asked as we cleared the gym and hit the open road.

  “I do!” Dax shouted.

  “I do too,” Polly agreed. “But my hips feel otherwise.”

  “My hips don’t care anymore,” I said.

  “Ice cream it is.” Polly half-heartedly agreed.

  We’d gone a good ten miles on the rural road Polly had reluctantly chosen to cut into town when we felt it.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked as the car died and rolled to a stop on the side of the road. She put it into park and dropped her head to the steering wheel.

  “Are you kidding me?” I asked. “Are we actually stranded?”

  “Damn it!” Polly shouted, slamming her open hands on the dashboard. “They were supposed to fix this. I’m not going back to that same damn mechanic!”

  “Sorry, Dax,” I apologized for Polly. “She didn’t mean to say bad words.”

  “Are we still getting ice cream?”

  “First, we have to figure out how to get out of here,” Polly said with a sigh.

  We sat in silence for only a moment “You have to call him,” Polly said, nodding to the phone in my hand.

  “Call who?”

  “Randall. Sam, you have to call Randall.”

  “No, I don’t.” I frowned.

  “Sam, this is an emergency. We are two girls stranded on a rural highway in the dark with a small child. This is the stuff horror movies are made of.”

  “Fine.” I caved, getting my wallet to find Randall’s card. Dialing the number, I was a little worried what or whom I would get on the other end. What if because I told Mac goodbye, my Randall offer had been rescinded?

  “Hello, Miss Samantha.”

  “Hi Randall, I’m so sorry to bother you, but Polly, Dax and I are in Polly’s car and we seem to be having a little bit of car trouble.”

  “Tell me where you are.”

  “We’re right off Highway 331. It’s a white VW Passat. We have the hazards on.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Randall said. “Please roll up your windows and lock your doors, Miss Samantha. I’m on my way.”r />
  “Thank you, Randall.”

  “My pleasure.”

  “See how easy that was?” Polly asked with a smile.

  “Yeah, well. Easy for you.”

  “Sam, what if everything he told you was true?”

  “All the questions about Ansible Star? Eating Chinese food in the office so he could get a closer look at everything? It’s all too easy to put together.”

  “Look, believe me when I tell you I’m not defending him. I’ve threatened his balls with a rusty knife. But what if he stumbled into you, fell in love, and then realized you could help him, but he couldn’t tell you for fear that Miller or Stacy would hurt you? What if he was protecting you the entire time?”

  “Well, that’s what he claims, but I don’t see how it’s possible.”

  “Answer me this,” Polly said, clearly believing she was on to something. “If he’d shown up that night with Chinese and told you what he was looking for—came clean with the whole FBI investigation—would you have helped him?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then what is the big effin’ deal?”

  “He didn’t tell me.”

  “He told you why he didn’t tell you.” Polly was tired of me, her car and now the one behind us. She rolled down her window and motioned for the slowing vehicle to go around and promptly rolled it back up. “He was protecting you.”

  “Maybe.”

  “Geez, what’s the deal tonight? I’ve not seen this much traffic on this road in ages.” Polly gestured to another car in her rearview mirror to go around.

  An old truck pulled beside us and stopped. She looked at me and pulled her arm back inside. It was dark and we couldn’t see the driver, but he had a strong Hispanic accent when he spoke.

  “Do you need help?”

  “Thank you, no.” Polly shook her head. “We have a car on the way to pick us up.”

  “You sure?” He put his truck into park, and slid across the bench seat and into the light.

  “¡Hola! Señorita Peterson.”

  The hair on the back of my neck stood at attention, and I looked over Polly to see Hector staring at me.

  “Roll your window up,” I whispered.

  “What?” Polly asked, seeing the panic in my face.

  Randall roared down the highway from the opposite direction, turning the Range Rover on a dime, stopping directly behind us, as I grabbed Polly’s hand and began to squeeze.

  “Ah, look. Our ride is here,” Polly told Hector.

  Before I knew it, Randall was out of his car with a hand on his belt walking toward the truck.

  Hector slid back behind the wheel and quickly pulled away.

  I opened the door and ran to Randall. “Thank God you came when you did.”

  “I have specific orders from Mr. Callahan to take you to Lone Oak. He’s going to call you there. He also asked for you to listen to your voicemail messages, Miss Samantha.”

  “I’ll listen to the messages, but I’m not going to Lone Oak. Please take me home.”

  “I thought we were getting ice cream,” Dax whined.

  “Not tonight, Dax,” Polly said. “But I bet I can find an ice cream sandwich at our house.”

  “Let’s get you in the car. Quickly, ma’am,” Randall barked, anxious to get us off the road and into the Range Rover.

  I took Dax from his car seat, and allowed Randall to unhook it. As we made our way to the SUV, I could see a car approaching. It got closer, and I knew—something wasn’t right. I picked up my pace and nearly ran to open the door. I watched, as the old Chevy truck slowly drove past us again.

  “PGE 7783,” I said aloud. “PGE 7783.”

  “Let’s get out of here!” I shouted to Randall. “Polly, just get in the front with Randall, I’ll buckle Dax as we go. For the love of God, get out of here!”

  “What is it?” Polly asked, scared and confused by my actions.

  I put my hand over my mouth, and pointed to the truck that had passed. “Hector. That was Hector.”

  Randall pulled the phone out of his pocket and hit a speed dial number. “Yes, sir, I have all of them. Yes, sir, she called me.”

  I knew he was talking with Mac. There was no one else it could be. Part of me wanted to take the phone out of Randall’s hand and break into tears saying, “Come back. I’m scared.”

  “Yes, sir. He was tailing her from the health club. Yes, sir.”

  “Georgia PGE 7783,” I muttered.

  “One moment, sir. Miss Samantha, did you say something?”

  “The license plate. Georgia PGE 7783,” I softly cried.

  Polly looked at me, “When did you see that?”

  “The second time he came down the road.”

  “Who is this guy?” Polly asked.

  “He’s bad news,” I whispered, and began to cry.

  31

  MAC

  “Timms,” I sighed, surprised to see him on the tarmac. “What’re you doing out so late?” We landed in Montgomery without delay and I wasn’t expecting a parade.

  “Your pilot called the house. Celia called me.”

  “Timms, I don’t want to get you and Miss Celia involved.”

  “Mac, we’re a family, and family takes care of family. No matter what.”

  I nodded and shook his hand. He pulled me in for a hug and a slap on the back, and in that moment, I thanked God for my family.

  We climbed into the Mercedes sedan, and made tracks back to Shadeland while I made follow-up calls to the Birmingham field office and the state police department.

  “Sir, we traced the license plate provided to us by your man. Came back as a stolen truck, reported yesterday. We found it in a parking lot in Montgomery. We’ve got the airport and bus stations under surveillance, but so far we’ve got nothing,” the state police officer reported.

  “Okay, keep me up to date. And make sure someone is outside my mother and Mrs. Peterson’s room at Autumn Valley twenty-four-seven. Do you understand?”

  “Done, sir.”

  I hung up and ran my hands through my hair. I hated playing a waiting game, but with no family, no permanent address, and a fake social security number, this guy could be anywhere and anyone.

  “Timms, I have a request.”

  “Anything.”

  “What kind of car are you driving these days?”

  “Honda Accord. Black. Why do you ask?”

  “I need to trade cars with you.”

  “Of course. You sure my car’s gonna have enough power to get you out of anything you might get into?” Timms asked calmly, looking down the dark road.

  “Nope. But it’s inconspicuous. Sam doesn’t know the car, and neither does Hector.”

  We arrived at Lone Oak, where Timms tossed me the keys to his Honda before he even put the Benz in park.

  “Be careful, Mac. And call us. Celia will worry.”

  “I’ll keep you posted. Thank you,” I said, hastily making my way to the garage where Timms kept his car.

  I drove straight to Sam’s house—texting Randall to let him know the black Honda belonged to me. I hid the car behind some bushes, knowing I was probably going to owe Timms a new car, or at the very least a new paint job by the time this was over. I sat silently and watched from the outside, knowing Randall was where I wanted to be, where I needed to be—on the inside. Still, if anyone tried to get into the house, we would know.

  32

  SAMANTHA

  I woke up on the couch to the smell of coffee, my neck completely stiff from sitting up most of the night. Randall was asleep in a chair in the front hallway. Refusing to go to Lone Oak, he wouldn’t leave my house once we arrived. Actually, I was thankful he was here, and I didn’t even mind that he had a gun inside his black suit jacket. I just hoped he knew how to use it. Knowing Mac, he’d trained Randall himself.

  It was six-thirty a.m., and as I got off the couch to pad into the kitchen for coffee, I heard Randall’s phone ring.

  “Yes, sir. No, sir. It was quiet here
last night. Yes, sir, I stayed in the front hall. No, sir, she was up all night in the family room. Yes, sir. Yes, sir. Thank you. Good-bye.”

  “Everything okay, Randall?” He sprang to his feet to meet me as I walked into the front hall to deliver a cup of coffee.

  “Yes, ma’am. Thank you.”

  “I didn’t know how you liked your coffee.” I said, holding up packets of sugar and individual cups of cream.

  “This is perfect. Thank you.”

  “So I assume that was Mac?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “What’s the latest on Hector?” Randall had briefed me and I’d listened to my messages from Mac. I knew Hector was looking for me.

  “The truck was stolen. He dumped it not far from where we saw him.”

  “You’re pretty good at this, Randall,” I said. “Makes me think that maybe you’re more than just a server-slash-driver-slash-house manager.”

  “Miss Celia runs the house, ma’am.”

  “But you’ve been trained for a lot more than what I’ve been led to believe. For goodness sake, you carry a gun and you’re scary behind the wheel of a car.”

  He stood silent, not answering the question.

  “Yeah, I figured you wouldn’t say anything,” I quipped. “It’s all a part of the Mac Callahan Keep Samantha in the Dark operation.”

  Not a word.

  “I’m going to take a shower, and then I have to be at Autumn Valley to meet with the FBI. Lucky me.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Just so we’re clear, Randall,” I said. “You are free to stay here and watch over Dax and Polly, but I don’t want to be followed and my every move reported to Mac. Do we understand each other?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  I walked up the stairs shaking my head knowing Mac would get a detailed report of everything I said. I looked in on Dax, still sleeping like an angel, his face buried in the covers and his butt stuck up in the air. Why couldn’t we all be like that? Not a care in the world.

  After my shower, I dressed in a black suit and my pearls. I wanted the FBI to take me seriously.