by LS Sygnet
I’m not sure how long I slept, only a slow awareness that I was half draped over Johnny’s body when I woke, and his fingers were skimming slowly up and down my spine. A flood of memories assailed me, happier days when I woke frequently in Johnny’s arms this way. Usually it was because of nightmares. I always woke with a feeling of unease, clinging to Johnny as if his arms would protect me from the demons in my conscience.
I experienced a moment of panic. Had Gillette been chasing me in my sleep again? No. Fragments of the pleasant dream drifted in and out. Fields of wild flowers, children laughing, salty breezes. Were we in the backyard?
The hand stroking stilled for a moment. Johnny resumed the soothing touch when I relaxed.
He spoke softly. “You awake?”
“Sort of.” I paused. “Was I…?”
“No nightmares this time. Have they been bothering you again?”
The last time Johnny regularly slept beside me, it was a several time a night ordeal. Of course, the fear of psychosis and my abduction were much fresher in my mind then. Closer maybe, since it all felt like it happened two blinks ago.
My shoulder lifted slightly.
“You don’t remember, or you don’t want to tell me?”
“If I’m having them, the good ones outweigh the bad.”
The hand on my back stilled again, flattened and hugged me. “I’m glad for that. You seem a little more… grounded these days.”
“How can you say that after the horrible fights, the things I’ve said to you?”
“Except for those moments. I’m not blind, Helen. I’ve noticed how happy you are… when I’m not around at least, or you haven’t realized I’m around anyway.”
“I don’t feel that way now.” I should’ve lifted my head and let him see the sincerity I felt. Instead, my head remained pillowed on his chest, somewhat shyly.
“I’m grateful for this good day,” he said. “I’ve been praying for it. Now I pray for another one tomorrow.”
Of course he had doubts. A single day of being decent to my husband wasn’t going to erase all the bad things I’ve done to him since we met. The most recent was merely the collision of inevitability. He knew. Had my MO down pat. I wondered idly why he ever loved me, though that fact was now in question.
He said he loved me enough to set me free. It wasn’t exactly a declaration of being in love.
“I’ll try very hard to do my part, Johnny.”
“Me too.”
Our children chose that moment to use my bladder as a trampoline. I jumped up off the sofa in automatic response and ran for the nearest bathroom – the powder room just off the living room. I cursed the timing of the event, but never the ones who caused it.
By the time I crept back toward the family room, the sofa was empty. Only the dent of Johnny’s body remained. Television off.
It bothered me more than I’d like to admit, that the moment had passed.
“Hot chocolate?”
I spun toward the kitchen. Johnny was standing with the refrigerator door open, carton of milk in hand.
Couldn’t have wiped the goofy smile off my face if I tried. “Mmm. Sounds great!”
“Are we in a marshmallow kind of mood tonight, or do we prefer it straight up?”
I wrinkled my nose for a second before making the decision. “Whipped cream.”
“Do we have any?” Johnny started rifling through the dairy bin in the door.
“I picked up a can of that pressurized stuff at the store this afternoon. It wouldn’t fit on the shelf, so I stuck it in the one below the dairy.”
He chuckled softly. “And here I thought that huge lunch you devoured might curb some of the impulse buys at the market.”
I drifted toward the kitchen and sat on a stool at the bar. “Sorry for that abrupt departure. I can’t imagine what it’s going to be like in six months.”
Johnny started heating the milk. “I figured it was either that or morning sickness. It always seems to bother you more after you’ve been asleep. You were out like a light earlier. It never ceases to amaze me how the chronic insomniac behaves like a narcoleptic all of a sudden.”
“Did I miss something important on the news?”
“I’m not sure,” Johnny said. He stirred cocoa into the brew on the stove. “Joe seems to have gained a little bit in the polls, but he’s still taking a beating from Sanderfield and the pundits for closing OSI.”
“Did any of you make that argument to him yesterday?”
Johnny nodded. “Chris said it first. David seconded it. They’ve been around this political bullshit a lot longer than I have. At the same time, I saw Joe’s point. If OSI was the major bone of contention, amputation seemed as good a solution as any.”
“No,” I disagreed softly. Johnny might be six years older than me, but my tenure in federal law enforcement had given me a different, more seasoned perspective on the political process, particularly as it applied to elite agencies. “It was precisely the time that Joe should’ve dug in his heels and struck back with why OSI was necessary. He should’ve shown his will, his backbone, his commitment to a very large constituency that was starved for justice.”
“Almost verbatim what David said. He taught you well.”
“It’s not because David taught me anything, Johnny. If I had a third choice in this race, believe me, I would vote for him hands down.”
“Someone mentioned that tonight too,” Johnny said. “The political commentators don’t seem to think we’ve even got a lesser of two evils anymore. The sad thing is, we’re seeing something pretty divisive between the state’s two largest cities.”
“Montgomery is pro-Sanderfield?”
Johnny poured two cups of cocoa and slid one of them to me – without whipped cream. I stared at it and frowned.
“Oops! I forgot. Give it back.” He squirted a generous dollop on mine and about half as much on his before he sat beside me at the bar. “So… Montgomery. I think they liked the anti-OSI message Sanderfield sent. To be fair, we were very much focused on Darkwater Bay, so his complaints resonated in the capital. The whole state footed the tax bill, not just Darkwater.”
“But the entire state stood to reap the benefits too,” I said. “If crime in Darkwater Bay decreased drastically, maybe the city would’ve started seeing some economic growth. Taxable growth.”
“It was a point we made. It’s too soon to see that result yet, and if Sanderfield wins this election, you can bet the family fortune that he’ll attribute it to an alien mojo before he’d properly acknowledge that what we did resulted in something very good.”
“We can only hope it doesn’t fall apart now that the watchdog has been euthanized.”
“Helen, Darkwater Bay has stepped up to the plate. I doubt that we’ll keep Commissioner Hardy if a new mayor is elected come next fall. He’ll appoint someone else.”
“Someone we hope is better than Hardy and not worse. God, I hate politics. All this uncertainty. I haven’t even been paying attention to who’s running against Mayor Bongo the Stupid.”
Johnny chuckled. “He’s a good guy. At least in my opinion. Scuttlebutt has it that he’s mentioned a couple of names as possible appointments to replace Hardy.”
“Oh?” I sipped and moaned softly. “Delicious. I should really pay attention to how you make this stuff.”
Johnny grinned. He reached over and thumbed whipped cream off the tip of my nose. “One of the names he mentioned was our very own Chris Darnell.”
“Johnny that would be amazing! I hope he’d accept the position.”
“The hunt is still on for Weber’s replacement too. They’re pretty dedicated to finding someone from outside Darkwater Bay with an impeccable record, so we’ll see what happens. If we end up with a sorry appointee for commissioner, it could complicate things.”
“Chris has to be the one,” I said. “No doubt about it.”
“Helen, he’s in his sixties. I’m pretty sure this isn’t how he imagined spending his
golden years. You know he hasn’t been married for very long, right?”
Chris told me an abbreviated life story, back when Ned died and Devlin was still drugged to the gills from surgery. “Yes, but the commissioner position wouldn’t be nearly as demanding as what he had to do for OSI. He’d have more people running operations to make sure things went smoothly.”
“I know,” Johnny said.
“And why aren’t they looking at you as Weber’s replacement? You’d make an excellent chief of police.”
“I’m a hands on kind of cop, Helen. That’s why Chris and I were a package deal. Even after I blew my cover the night you got shot, nothing at OSI really changed. I did my thing. Chris managed the store – and brilliantly, I might add.”
I scooped whipped cream off my cocoa and sucked it off my finger. “You’ll get no argument with me. I was telling Dev the other day that my first impression of Chris wasn’t so hot. I quickly changed my mind. He is truly one of the good guys. Of course if he’s tired of all of this nonsense, who am I to criticize him for retiring? I’m not even 40 yet and had my fill for more than a lifetime.”
Johnny caressed the back of my hand lightly. “And from what I’ve seen of your professional experience, you’ve been through more since I’ve known you than most cops see in an entire career. I’m relieved that you’re done.”
“I’d be done even if I wasn’t done now.”
“What do you mean?”
“I can’t work like that while I’m pregnant. And I wouldn’t want to go back to it after the boys are born. I’d be nuts to even consider it, even if I hadn’t already made the decision to retire. I should’ve stuck to my guns last year,” I said. “When I handed David my badge, I should’ve let it end there.”
“Would I have known you if you had?”
Our eyes met. “I didn’t mean that I regret meeting you. I think the whole point is that I love the life I have right now very much, and that I’m looking forward to having these children, Johnny. It’s all the other stuff I could’ve lived without.”
“But all that other stuff saved lives. It made Darkwater a safer place. You made me a better cop, Helen. You still do.”
“Because living with a criminal helps you think like one?”
“I don’t believe you really are,” he said softly. “But I know you sure learned from an adept one. Maybe that’s what rubs off on me. The lessons you learned because of your mother.”
His ignorance – or perhaps kindness – at the exclusion of Wendell warmed my heart. Turned me into gooey mush that was sorely tempted to drag him and the remaining cocoa off to bed for a snuggle and the rest of the conversation.
He must’ve recognized the expression, maybe some lustful or dreamy cloud in my eyes. Johnny retreated quickly. “Well, I’ve got an early morning and it’s after midnight. Try not to stay up all night, Doc.”
He slipped off the stool and disappeared up the kitchen stairs, leaving me alone and sorely disappointed.
Chapter 27
I woke just after four in a cold sweat. Note to self. Talking about nightmares is not a good idea if the goal is keeping the demons at bay. It was a doozy, with lots of sneering from Andy Gillette and Umberto Gutierrez. I sat up with a start, panting heavily. Nausea reared its ugly head.
I dashed to the bathroom and dry heaved over the toilet. “Not again. Please not again,” I struggled to suppress the gag.
What was so disturbing about this one? I’d had plenty of horrific nightmares about my two dead tormentors over the past month. None had elicited this reaction. Had something created the perfect storm for this one?
The last thing I wanted to do was pick through the details and pinpoint what exactly made me cold and sweaty, made my innards quake in fear all over again. David was right when he reprimanded me before dinner the other night. I am too astute as a psychologist to ignore rational detachment. At least, I couldn’t ignore it forever. The problem with dreams is that awareness tends to bury details.
With one arm curved around the toilet seat while I finally brought up a little bit of bitter bile, I closed my eyes and searched for the images.
Pitch black room. Faces suddenly appeared in a spotlight right in front of me. Whispered words, some known and some unknown hissed at me. Gillette’s cocky confidence transformed to rage. Gutierrez’s business as usual approach became wary.
These things, though in highlighted context when underscored by the nightmare, were all actual events. Nothing new there. I refocused on the indistinct words.
Another wave of nausea assailed. Right track? More morning sickness?
I breathed slowly, in through the nose, out through the mouth. Oddly, questions about Lamaze popped into my head. I’d have to remember to ask Dr. Harvey next – Focus, Helen!
Eyes closed. Breathing quelled the churning. I blocked the visual aspect of the dream with intense concentration.
“Spanish?”
One phrase was uttered amongst several diatribes that I understood. Dios mio. My God. It didn’t make sense. Why would Raul’s fearful gibberish make me…
Another memory floated through the darkness in my dream. Whumping. It was a sound. Why was it so familiar? Registration hit and obliterated everything else. My eyes shot open and I leapt to my feet.
Stairs two at a time. Panting. Absolute lack of awareness of anything other than what I recalled. I dashed into Johnny’s room shouting his name.
He jumped out of deep sleep from the neck up. “What is it? What’s wrong? Is it the babies?”
“I had a dream!”
His head sank back into the pillows on his bed. “Okay. Do you need to talk about it?”
“No. Yes! It wasn’t just a dream. I remembered something!”
Johnny’s eyes popped open. “You did? Are you sure?”
I sat on the edge of his bed. “Who knows how long I’ve been ignoring this. My God, when I think about the time wasted because I couldn’t be rational and objective about those stupid nightmares –”
“Tell me what you remember.” He reached over and flicked on the lamp on the nightstand. “Helen, you’re soaking wet!”
“I know. It’s not important. You told me that you arrived by Coast Guard cutter, right?”
“I don’t believe I said it was a cutter, but yes. We found out the destination of The Celeste from the anagrams that Crevan deciphered and flew immediately to Alaska. The Coast Guard transported us to Cleveland Island.”
“You didn’t come by helicopter.”
“No. Why? Do you remember seeing a helicopter?”
“I couldn’t see anything from my prison. I heard it.”
“Do you remember when?”
“I had no concept of time, Johnny. I thought that I killed Gutierrez and Gillette within a few hours of leaving Darkwater Bay.”
“It fits with the conclusions of Maya’s autopsy, at least for Gillette.”
“So it wasn’t long after Gillette died that Raul came back to the cargo bay. He saw what I’d done and took off screaming. It was in Spanish, so the only thing that was clear to me was Dios mio or in English, my God.” I paused. “And he called me the devil. He said something about a senior tree.”
“Señor tree?”
I snapped my fingers. “Yes! Señor Tree!”
“So we should be looking for a guy that has the name tree.”
There was no disguise capable of covering my wounded expression. “You didn’t have to say it like that, Johnny.”
“Don’t take it the wrong way. Sometimes a dream is just a dream though.”
“Everything else was right, everything Gillette said to me, their faces, it was all exactly as it happened.”
“Mr. Tree,” he repeated.
“Tree. Tree.”
Our eyes met.
“Or could it have been Señor Terry?”
“Oh my God, Johnny. He was yelling for Sanderfield!”
“Hold on. Maybe that’s what he said.”
I jumped up and sta
rted pacing. “No. No, no, no. Umberto got real nervous when I suggested that there was an unknown conspirator. And Gillette said something to him, he was going to discuss something with someone, but Umberto cut him off before he could finish.”
“Let’s focus on the sound again. Are you certain it was a helicopter and not one of the engines on the ship?”
“All I had for days was sound. It was pitch black after Raul saw that I killed Gillette. It was different from the sounds on the ship. Those were more… low. Groans. Rhythmic pistons, that sort of thing. This was whumping. The blades on a helicopter, Johnny. I have no concept of how long it was between events in the light, the darkness and when I heard that sound.”
“Try to think, Helen. This could be crucial.”
I paused, closed my eyes and tilted my head back. “I was standing on Gillette. My shoulders were killing me. It felt like I’d been hanging on that wall for days when I woke up from the first stun gun attack.”
“They used it more than once?”
“I wasn’t exactly cooperative when Umberto brought Raul in to prepare me for my first lesson in submissive conduct, Johnny. I psyched Raul out so bad, he refused to come anywhere near me. When Umberto approached to remove my clothing, I smashed his face in. That was when Gillette showed up. We couldn’t have been far out of the bay by then. I have no idea how quickly one of those ships even moves.”
“It took them four days to get from here to Cleveland Island, so not very fast, Helen. They wouldn’t have wanted to zip out of the bay at full speed anyway. It would’ve drawn some major attention.”
My lips rolled inward as I stared at Johnny.
“What?”
“I can’t be sure. Everything sort of bled together after Gillette was dead and I realized that I was no closer to escape than I had been before. I don’t think it was long after that. I remember wondering if you realized I’d even been abducted yet.”
“So maybe it was fairly soon,” Johnny said. “Helen, do you think it’s possible that Sanderfield was on that ship, even briefly?”
“I can’t imagine why he would’ve been. An eight day, sudden and unexplained absence of a state senator, one in the midst of a nasty campaign for higher office, it would’ve thrown up more than a few red flags, don’t you think? Did the crew point fingers at anyone other than Gillette?”
