by Lee Perry
“It’s a good choice,” Jordan replied, stifling the urged to yawn, “Point Sur Light Station is a working, fully automated lighthouse on the coast just south of Big Sur. The advantages of the place are that the lighthouse is closed to the public during the winter months, and it’s only accessible by one road that extends about a mile from the main highway and across a sandbar. The lighthouse itself was apparently built on a huge rock and, so I’m told, it affords clear, unobstructed views in all directions. Once we settle in, only a minimum of staff will be required for round the clock protection.”
“Wallace and Turner?”
“Yes and one more team… We’ll wait out Alex there, if she signs her name on the dotted line and joins Cathy, the U.S. Marshals can take over and they can figure out where they’re gonna’ go in the witness protection program from there. Alex Sparrow’s a woman on the edge, she manages to keep a lid on herself but she breaks into a cold sweat at the slightest sign of stress. I’m betting she spills it before they finish processing her. I think the only thing we can’t anticipate is whether Cathy will still want to continue with her after she agrees to fully cooperate and go into witness protection… it’ll be her choice.”
“Do you think she will?”
“I don’t know,” Jordan shrugged, “I think it’s possible if Alex decides to cooperate with us that she might want her back.”
“Why?”
“Because she’s still the mother of her surviving child,” Jordan shrugged, “I think it’s reasonable to expect her to still have a strong desire to fix the nightmare, somehow, and restore the family vision once again.”
“Are you sure she wants to do all of this?” Stewart asked, holding up Jordan’s itinerary and shaking it slightly for emphasis, “Cuz’ we got nothing right now on anybody but Coastanoa and he’s underground. And if Doctor Sparrow bails on this at any point, Jordan, and Miz Sparrow refuses to get on board, we’re gonna’ have a big mess on our hands and still be nowhere.”
“I know,” she nodded, “she’s scared and she won’t relax or be okay until she and her son are on a plane flying west. But we talked for a long time yesterday,” she shrugged tiredly, “I think she was in as much, if a different kind of denial as her wife. But once the veil of illusion was lifted…” she shrugged again, “she knows there’s no going back. Her daughter is dead; she doesn’t want her son to end up the same way….” She looked down at the file and closed it gently, thoughtfully tapping on its surface, “I think she thought she was going to testify to the shooting and we’d catch the killer and everyone in the Rossi outfit would go to prison forever for killing her daughter and she could find some sort of peace in that. But, once I explained the more likely scenario; that Anthony Rossi probably ordered the shooting thinking if he could make Alex a widow she’d be more willing to join the family, and after spending some time working for them and being treated like a princess… she’d pledge her loyalty soon enough.”
Jordan slid the file from his desk, “But since Doctor Sparrow survived the shooting, it’s possible Rossi would have taken the whole family of Sparrows in just to simplify matters… Can you imagine what would have happened if Anthony Rossi found out it’s Cathy Sparrow that’s the computer genius and not Alex?”
“From what I’ve read about her,” Stewart scrubbed at his close-cropped hair, “we’d be royally screwed if Doctor Sparrow ever went over to the dark side.”
Jordan quirked her eyebrows in silent agreement; it wasn’t a scenario she had completely played out for Cathy. She didn’t even like thinking about it too much, If you hold a woman’s child hostage, she had mused, what wouldn’t she do in exchange for his safety?
“When you finally get access to whatever it is Alex has been doing for Rossi, see if Doctor Sparrow would have a look at it. Maybe she’d like something to do while she’s sitting on her rock by the sea.”
Jordan was going to tell him to flip his itinerary to the next page so he could see for himself that Jordan had already thought of that, but emitted a huge yawn instead. She covered her mouth with the file and apologized, “Jeez, I’m sorry; the last thirty-six hours have been insane.”
“Yeah,” Stewart agreed unsympathetically, “sleep on the plane.”
Marlboro, NJ
Jordan nervously shifted in her seat while she waited for Alex Sparrow to come into the private viewing room and see the body of her dead wife. She had secreted herself away in a dark corner of the tiny anteroom located furthest from the casket; seated in the shadows in the back row, behind a translucent screen for family members who required more privacy. Arrangements had been made with the mortuary manager to introduce John Mackie as the mortician who worked on his wife when Alex had suddenly called and asked to view the body the night before. She was surprised Alex had asked at all; she had appeared appropriately shocked when she had returned to the hospital the day before to visit Cathy and had been told there were complications and had been rushed into surgery. Toby Fleischer, an FBI medical examiner from the bureau stepped in as the surgeon who ‘performed’ the unsuccessful surgery on Cathy and gave Alex the news that her wife did not survive the emergency procedure.
As before, Jordan stood back at a respectful distance when Alex got the news and watched her response. At first, she seemed genuinely shocked and as Dr. Fleischer spoke, dropped her head to gaze dully at the floor. Just like last time, Jordan thought, except this time her eyes reflected guilt in their depths. In that moment Jordan felt a rush of pure hatred for Alex Sparrow, Is this what it finally takes, she had silently raged, for her to finally feel something real? She struggled to cool her temper when she finally stepped forward and forced herself to put her hand on Alex’s shoulder, saying in a carefully modulated tone, “I’m so sorry for your loss, Alex.”
Jordan then offered to help arrange for Cathy’s body, her stand-in body, to be transported to the same mortuary in Marlboro that their daughter had been taken to. Unsurprisingly, Alex agreed and Jordan immediately called Don to take over. She planned to move into the background and let her partner slowly take over this end of the investigation. As much as she did not want to be separated from Cathy, Jordan still felt like she was walking away from the case; she wanted to be the one to look deep into the soul of Alexandra Sparrow and place her under arrest. But it was Stewart who told her it was a no-brainer that Jordan had to be the one to go with Cathy and privately, she admitted she fine with the trade off; Stewart says I have to go with her because I’m the one who taught her sign and I have a rapport with her… But what I feel for Cathy now is way more than rapport. She scolded silently; I passed ‘rapport’ a long time ago, and she has more than enough to deal with in her life… I need to be better about maintaining a compassionate, professional distance…
Jordan heard the click of the door latch as John Mackie entered the viewing room with Alex in tow. In spite of his gray hair, John looked younger than his fifty-seven years. He was only 5’6”, a tad portly and he had kindly blue-gray eyes that peered over the top of his reading glasses at Alex with absolute sympathy and understanding. Jordan watched as they slowly walked down the center aisle between rows of pews, and John, clearly enjoying his undercover role, kept a running patter of quiet reassurances about how her wife would look in her coffin as he led her to the casket that rested on a dais, a soft hand on her elbow,
“She’s not going to look like she did in life, Miz Sparrow, but I did try to make her look as natural as possible, I can assure you.” As they stepped up to the open casket, John moved his hand from Alex’s elbow to clasp her on the shoulder. As they looked down at the fake Cathy Sparrow, John added, “You can touch her if you like.”
Jordan almost burst out laughing when she caught Alex’s shocked look. That she wanted to see her wife’s dead body at all was something of a surprise to her; she had refused to allow her wife to view their daughter’s body and she had certainly not looked herself. So what’s different now? Jordan wondered, why ask to see your wife one last time, but not
your child?
John gave Alex one final pat, saying he’d be right outside, then turned and left the way they had come in, leaving Alex seemingly alone in the room. Jordan watched as she stood very still for several long, quiet moments, looking into the casket. She took one slow step forward and just as slowly reached a hand inside. Jordan tensed in her seat, holding her breath, forcing herself to a calm she didn’t feel when Alex suddenly snatched her hand back and turned away. She tottered slightly on her high heels as she moved to sit down on one of the pews, dropping unceremoniously onto the hard wood and reaching into the pocket of her dark designer suit for some tissue. She blotted carefully at her face with shaking hands before dropping her head back and closing her eyes,
What am I doing here? she lamented silently. She pressed the tissue against her eyes and struggled to slow her breathing. When the doctor in the hospital told her Cathy had another rupture in her throat and had died on the operating table she had felt… Not guilt… she firmly told herself, it’s not my fault she blew another goddamn vein in her neck! She felt her face flush hot with denied shame and her hand shook as she pressed the tissue even more firmly against her tear ducts. It’s not my fault! she railed silently, firmly swallowing the lump that formed stubbornly in her throat.
The thought of viewing a dead body horrified Alex and she had no intention of viewing Cathy, or anyone else’s body. Her parents, shocked by the news of Cathy’s death, insisted she eat, and they took her and Cameron out to dinner to a small family style restaurant. After the meal, Alex had excused herself to go the restroom and as she approached the door to the women’s room the door to the men’s room suddenly opened and she was yanked inside.
“If you were a man you’d be coming in here to piss...” a dark-eyed man murmured quietly, sneering. Terrified, she had backed away from him, only later recalling how ordinary he appeared in his t-shirt and jeans. He pressed a sneakered foot against the closed door and hooked his thumbs in his pockets, “We need you to make sure your wife is dead,” he said quietly, “and that her box goes in the ground.” His tone was both conversational and menacing, “Tonight, scrub your hard drives clean…” He paused to smile sweetly, “and I mean clean, Miz Sparrow. Not one byte of information about the programs you’ve been working on for us can be left behind, understand?” Alex was barely able to nod in response. “Save only one copy on a flash drive and keep it on you at all times. Be a good grieving wife, because we will be coming for you… soon.” With that, he gave her a wink and left, leaving Alex to fumble with the men’s room door and rush into the women’s room where she vomited her dinner in the toilet.
Still sitting in the pew with her eyes closed, Alex thought she would vomit again. Her head ached and she couldn’t stop the trembling that now shook her from head to toe. Had she the presence of mind, she could have told the man that Cathy was indeed dead; there was no need for her to make sure. Instead, she had rushed her parents and son from the restaurant on the pretense she was tired, not seeing the protective detail rush to follow them out the door. She made a beeline for her office as soon as they returned and with shaking fingers that refused to hit the right keys on the keyboard, she first copied everything she had been working on for Rossi onto a 64GB encrypted flash drive and then copied everything on hers and Cathy’s workstations until the drive was full. She then erased every byte from her workstation and laptop.
And here I am, she slumped wearily in the pew, still doing what I’m told… in a desperate attempt to keep myself alive. She let her hand fall away from her eyes, and sitting up a little straighter, dropped her chin onto her chest and sighed heavily. Without warning, her eyes filled with tears and Alex hastily covered her mouth with the damp wad of tissue. She made stifled, choking noises as she wept into the tissue and her voice was thin and high-pitched as she cried. Oh god, she wailed silently, she looked awful. She looks so gray, so sad, so… And she’s gone, a small voice prodded, so whose fault is that? Alex made a muffled, indecipherable noise as she angrily slammed down on thought, then sniffed and loudly blew her nose. Clearing her throat, she rose from the pew and taking one last look toward the casket, turned and slowly walked down the aisle to the door, tossing the sodden lump of tissue into a trashcan as she left.
Jordan stayed where she was, Quite a performance… a single eyebrow arched skeptically. She heard the door latch once again and John came back in the room, slipping behind the privacy screen to sit in the pew in front of Jordan. Turning in his seat, he casually dropped an arm across the polished oak, “Man, that woman’s a mess. Good thing she’s being taken in today, she’d make one shitty criminal.”
Jordan smiled, slumping in her seat and rubbed her forehead at the tension headache that had begun to form there, “Yeah, pathetic would describe her pretty well…” she agreed and then asked, “Are you heading back after the burial?”
“Yep, it was fun though, I don’t get out much, you know?” The older man sighed in satisfaction, adding wistfully, “I can’t remember the last time I got to come out and play with the bad guys… thank you, Agent Hawkins.”
Jordan gave a small smile, “Anytime, Agent Mackie.”
He slapped his thighs and rocked himself up and out of the pew, “Well, time for Phase Two; I’m gonna’ seal Doctor Sparrow’s coffin over there,” he said, nodding to the casket, “and take her and the flowers to the cemetery. Then after I bring the hearse back I’m going straight to the airport, so…” He turned back and held out his hand to Jordan, who quickly rose from her seat to grasp it, “thanks for the job, Agent Hawkins… but try to give me a little more notice next time, okay?”
She shook his hand warmly, “As much as I can.” she promised, chuckling softly when saw him roll his eyes as he stepped around the screen,
“That’s reassuring...” he muttered as he sauntered down the aisle to seal his work from any further scrutiny.
Jordan left by a side door and walked down the hall to an exit leading outside. She motioned to Don in the parking lot and he met up with her at one of the two black SUVs’ that would escort Alex and her infant son to the cemetery. FBI escort aside, Alex had planned for her and her son to be the only attendees at her wife’s funeral. After discussing the matter with her parents, Alex decided they should stay at home, and after the burial she’d join them for a private lunch.
“Agent Mackie is sealing the casket now; he’ll be right around with the hearse to lead you all to the cemetery… Okay?”
Don nodded, looking over his shoulder at Alex as she climbed in the first vehicle, “I take it Miz Sparrow has made her final good-byes to the late Doctor Sparrow?”
“Yeah,” Jordan snorted softly, “she’s done.” She reached to shake the agent’s hand, “This case is all yours now Don, knock yourself out.”
“Okay,” he wagged his eyebrows at her, “how about I have Jerry over there make a nice video of when I tell Miz Sparrow that she’s under arrest for obstruction?” He shrugged, “I feel bad you’re gonna’ miss it… you should be doing this, not me.”
Jordan shook her head, “This investigation belongs to all of us, Don…” she added slyly, “I wouldn’t mind seeing the video, though.” She gave him an affectionate punch on the arm and turned to go, “Enjoy.” she grinned and walked back to her car.
When she turned the car into the u-turn that would take her away from Alex Sparrow and the disturbing piece of art created by Agent Mackie, Jordan took one last look in the rear-view mirror. Now she had to go to the safe house in the city and collect Cathy Sparrow and take her to the Stewart Air National Guard Base near Newburgh where they would meet with the agent assigned to bring little Cameron Sparrow. There, the trio of mother, son and FBI agent would board a Lear jet bound for the small international airport in Monterey, CA.
Jordan pulled her phone from a coat pocket and entered a specially encoded speed-dial number. It only rang twice before someone answered on the other end,
“Tell her I’m on my way.”
New York C
ity, NY
Jordan’s phone rang just as she pulled up to the safe house, “Don…” she greeted him as she backed into the driveway, aligning the passenger door with the side door on the house.
“I just wanted to share,” he said sarcastically, making her smile, “she’s now treating us like hired babysitters; first she brought her kid… so we had to get the kiddy-car seat from their van and belt it in the lead car…. Then she pretty much tells us to watch him while she’s in the funeral parlor and then, by the time when we got to the cemetery the kid is sound asleep so she tells us again to watch him while I think the pastor said about five words before they put her wife’s coffin in the ground… And now we’re on our way back to the house.”
Jordan turned off the engine and sighed, “At least she brought their son…”
“Honestly,” Don sounded both sad and genuinely puzzled, “I don’t know why she bothered… Anyway,” he cleared his throat, “we’re gonna pull up to the house soon and we’ll be arresting Miz Sparrow in a few minutes, I’ll call you when Sharon’s on her way with the kid.”
“Okay,” Jordan grinned as she exited the car, “and tell Jerry to remember he’s making an official record of the arrest and that he shouldn’t pan the camera in his phone up and down Miz Sparrow’s curvy length while you’re arresting her…” She paused as she got out of the car, “like you have a tendency to do when you’re making a video record.”
Don snorted, “Fine…”
They signed off and a casually dressed agent met Jordan at the door and pointed her in Cathy’s direction.
“Hi.” Jordan gave her characteristic, slight wave as she entered the sparsely furnished living room, “We’re all ready to go here, but I need you to fill out some paperwork for us first, okay?” she asked, holding up some forms and a pen.
Turning to look from her seat at the window, Cathy arched her eyebrows questioningly when she signed, “Are they bringing Cameron?”
