by Lee Perry
“I think it’s okay,” he replied, “just checking in to make sure Wally showed you how to crank up the generator if the electricity goes out.”
The overhead lights flickered and went out and Jordan keyed the mic, “He did, and you have perfect timing.”
“In that case…” they could hear him sigh expressively, “I’ll let you go so you can fire it up. We already had ours going; I don’t like relying on backup batteries with all this stuff.”
“Alright, well…” Jordan briefly let her thumb off the mic when lightning flashed again, “have a good night over there.” Catherine turned on a battery-operated lantern on the table and Jordan grabbed a flashlight off the windowsill, “Okay,” she clicked it on, “I’ll be right back…”
When she got back from turning on the generator in the basement, Catherine was standing at the stove, slowly moving a covered saucepan over one of the burners at full flame and her brow furrowed, “Didn’t the light come back on in here?”
Catherine nodded, “They did, but I thought it felt cozier with them off,” she shrugged turning back to the stove and shook the pan again before turning to add, “I thought it would make the stormy weather more enjoyable.”
“Oh,” Jordan sat, “great, I love stormy weather too… when I’m not on the road…” She watched as Catherine shook the covered pan back and forth across the gas burner, “Whatcha’ making?”
Catherine let go of the pan’s handle for a moment, “Popcorn.”
Jordan’s jaw dropped, “You’re kidding, you can make popcorn on a stove?”
Catherine had returned to moving the pan on the heat and she stopped for a moment, looking incredulous before bursting into silent laughter.
“What?” Jordan’s voice faded, realizing she was seeing Catherine laugh for the first time, I’ve seen her chuckle... and smile but… she’s even more beautiful when she laughs.
Popping sounds began to issue from the covered pan and Catherine’s brows arched, “See?” She gestured to the pan.
“Well…” Jordan shrugged, speechless as she grinned back, “I thought the popcorn we had was for… you know… the microwave.”
The popcorn began to pop furiously and as soon as the sounds slowed Catherine turned off the gas flame and removing the lid, poured the contents into a bowl. She brought it to the table and Jordan leaned over it, impressed,
“I did not know you could cook, Doctor Bernard.”
Catherine’s brows arched in surprise, “There are lots of things you don’t know about me, Agent Hawkins.”
Jordan plucked some popped kernels from the bowl and munched, “Hey!” she exclaimed, “This is great!” Lightning flashed and thunder clapped again and Jordan looked out the dark window, “Seems like this storm’s not moving very fast.”
Catherine joined her at the table, “Admit it, this is better than microwave popcorn.”
“Oh,” Jordan snorted, “absolutely.” She crunched appreciatively for a moment, “Oh, hey…” she licked her fingers clean and wiped them on her jeans, “I saw Chinese checkers in the hall closet… wanna play?”
Catherine nodded and grabbing the flashlight again, Jordan went to retrieve the game. When she brought it back to the table Catherine marveled at the checkerboard with its six-pointed star,
“1939? This is such an antique, are you sure we should be using it?”
“It was just sitting on a high shelf in the closet,” Jordan shrugged, “we might as well.”
Catherine didn’t know how to play so Jordan explained the game while she set up the colored marbles. Wind whipped rain against the windowpanes as they took turns moving marbles across the board and finally Catherine asked, “So, earlier you were telling me how you were accepted into the FBI as you were graduating from college…”
“Yes?” Jordan asked, jumping one of Catherine’s marbles.
“So… what was that like?”
“Oh, I loved training at Quantico…” Jordan assured her, “I did…” She stared thoughtfully at the board, “It was challenging and fun and frustrating and everything I thought and hoped it would be.”
“You found your life’s purpose.”
“For sure,” Jordan added, sounding self-deprecatingly boastful, “I even graduated at the top of my class…”
Catherine’s brows arched and she smiled, “Of course you did.”
Jordan felt her face grow hot, “Yes, thank god there were no required cooking classes.” Catherine snorted and she continued, “Anyway, I got to try out a lot of things in different departments. In spite of the required assessment tests the bureau likes to try out people in different settings to see what else might click, you know? So I got to work in just about every department.”
“And where did you and Don meet?” It appeared to Catherine that Jordan both sagged in her chair and tensed simultaneously, “I’m sorry, Jordan… you don’t have t…”
“No,” Jordan shook her head, “actually,” she snorted, grinning, “we met in a division that works with the U.S. Marshall’s Service on fugitive roundups…” Catherine looked at her questioningly and she clarified, “Sting operations designed to roundup people with outstanding warrants.” Catherine nodded and she continued, “We got to be a part of an email sting that lured known fugitives to one of those presentations where you have to sit and endure a sales pitch for condominiums or something in order to get a free TV, or tickets to the Superbowl…” Catherine nodded again. “Okay, so it’s a good way to catch a lot of these people in one room at the same time and there are all sorts of protocols in place for determining who might be armed. Those people are then led off to a private room with the promise of some kind of additional prize because of a special code by their names or whatever and we’d take them in the other room with heavily armed agents and arrest them.
So Don and I get this one guy who’s been given one of those big foam fingers like you get at a football game by an agent who suspected him of carrying a weapon…”
“And how do they determine that?”
“Of being armed?” Jordan snickered, “They dress up cute young agents in something appropriately scanty and have them enthusiastically hug and squeeze ‘the winners’ and if they think they feel a gun they give them a foam finger…”
“And so you giggled and hugged your suspect…”
“Actually, no,” Jordan scoffed, “I was told I was too tall.” Catherine’s mouth dropped open in mock shock and outrage and Jordan snickered, continuing, “It was quite the distracting party atmosphere. So we’re leading this guy with his big foam finger into a private room and he must have sensed something was off because the second he stepped into that room he whipped out a gun and started shooting.” She snorted again, chuckling, “I was right next to him, so I’m wrestling him to the floor and he’s shooting his gun… and I was so focused on keeping the barrel pointed away from everybody that I got shot in the leg.”
Captivated by Jordan’s features in the soft lamplight, Catherine listened intently and she blinked, suddenly looking aghast, “Oh my god, what?”
“Yeah,” Jordan snickered, ‘I got shot in the thigh and when Don saw all the blood he kinda’ lost it and while he was cuffing the guy he was screaming at him, ‘NO! No TV for you!’ and the guy looked up at him, completely shocked and goes, ‘Why not?’ and Don screamed, ‘Because you shot my partner!’”
Both women laughed and Catherine struggled to sign, “What happened then?”
“Well, it was chaos, but all the fugitives who showed up were arrested… Don used his tie to tie a tourniquet around my leg but I still lost a lot of blood…” She shrugged, “Obviously it all turned out okay, Don either visited or called to check up on me every day and when I got back to work I asked our department director if we could be assigned together… and the rest,” her voice dropped and she murmured, “I guess is history.”
Catherine got up from the table and opening one of the cupboards, withdrew a bottle of scotch. She retrieved two glasses from another c
upboard and returned to the table. Jordan watched as she poured a drink in each, “I believe this calls for a toast.” She held her glass aloft and Jordan followed suit,
“To Don Maynard; he was a good man, a great agent… and I will miss him.”
They clinked their glasses together and tilted the warm liquid down their throats, My, Catherine’s brows arched in surprise, that’s really smooth.
“That go down okay?”
She realized Jordan was looking at her in concern and she nodded, “I believe that was the first alcohol I’ve had…” She didn’t bother to finish the sentence and shrugged instead, “That was actually quite nice.”
Jordan picked up the bottle, turning the label toward the light, “Well, this scotch is apparently thirty years old, so I guess it should be pretty smooth.”
“Was Don married?”
“No, never married… like me.”
Emboldened by the scotch, Catherine ventured, “Are you in a relationship?”
“No,” Jordan shook her head, “I’ve dated… but I work a lot so…”
“That isn’t something you want?”
“A relationship?” Jordan nodded, “Yes, I’d like that very much. I could have a home life if I wanted to…” She lifted a shoulder in a half shrug, “but I just never met the right person…” Feeling her face suddenly flush she added, “Plus, I live in a really small apartment that only holds a bed and a TV…” Jesus that came out lame, she scolded silently. “So I spend most of my time at work…” Catherine sat quietly, the tips of her fingers on her right hand lightly brushing over the tops of the colored marbles and Jordan shrugged again, watching them. “There are sandwich shops in between home and work… and the bureau has a pretty nice cafeteria and gym…”
A long moment passed as they silently regarded each other until Catherine finally sat up straighter in her seat, “Well, I guess that would explain your culinary expertise.”
Jordan’s brows arched high under her dark bangs, “Hey!” She tried to pretend outrage but she suddenly snorted, chuckling, “It’s true… I admit it freely; I don’t know how to cook. Although in my defense I would like to point out I am obviously capable of making coffee and toast...”
“Yes,” Catherine conceded, “you do make a mean stack of toast.”
“Oh, so the coffee doesn’t count?”
“Fine, I’ll give you the coffee too.”
“Why, thank you…” Jordan said teasingly and added, “It’s no accident Tappert got assigned here you know.”
“Because he can cook?”
She nodded, “That’s what I was looking for, yes…”
Catherine smiled back, “Are you always assigned in pairs?”
“Like nuns and cockroaches?” She replied dryly, “Yes.” Catherine slowly shook her head from side to side, still smiling and Jordan lifted a shoulder, “It does mostly work out that way… and it’s like any other relationship; sometimes they work out, and sometimes your supervisor needs to keep pairing you up with someone till you find a good fit.”
“And you and Don were a good fit.”
“Oh yes…” Jordan said wistfully, “He has… he had a dry sense of humor that really worked for him… and we always had each other’s back.” She sighed, “I’ll miss him.”
“And when we leave here you’ll be assigned someone else?”
“That’s how it’s supposed to work…” Jordan shook her head, “but I’m not looking for a replacement.”
“It’s hard when a relationship suddenly ends…”
“Yes…” Jordan agreed, “Yes it is.”
Darien, CT
Gina, the live-in maid, looked to Alex to be about nineteen years of age and she found herself admiring the gentle sway of the young woman’s backside as she followed her up the stairs. The overnight delivery service deposited what appeared to be half the truck’s contents onto the front porch, and Alex had asked Gina to help carry the dozens of boxes up to her room.
“Thank you, Gina, is it?” The young woman only nodded, flashing a small smile as she left Alex’s bedroom. Oh my… Alex’s grin was feral, She’s shy… I always liked the shy ones…
She had retrieved a serrated knife from the kitchen and methodically set about opening her mountain of purchases. She opened each box and tried on each item. She filled the closets with expensive suits, new dresses, and silk blouses. She filled the bureau drawers with beautifully sculpted bras, silk and cotton bikini panties, and thick sport socks. She hung new jeans and polo shirts and folded trendy workout clothes in the bureau. She admired her new heels in the full-length mirror on the back wall of the walk-in closet, smiling at her reflection as she posed in her new lingerie and heels. When she finished she dressed in jeans, a polo shirt and a new pair of running shoes.
Gina arrived with lunch on a tray and Alex let her in, flashing a smile, “Gina, could you show me where the trash is so I can take these out?”
Each carried a stack of flattened cardboard boxes and Alex chuckled as she watched Gina struggle not to drop her stack as she preceded her down the stairs, “Here, let me take the big ones, my arms are longer than yours.”
“That’s okay,” the young woman continued down the stairs, “I got it.”
She led the way and Alex followed quietly, waiting until they went out the back door before she spoke again, “So, Gina, have you worked here long?”
“Only a couple of years, my uncle Anthony gave me a job when I graduated high school.”
Alex’s face fell as they deposited their loads in the shed that sheltered the dumpsters, “Well,” she plastered a smile on her face, “that’s great.”
Gina looked as though she might curtsy, “You want your dinner brought up too?”
“Yeah,” Alex sighed as she walked back to the house, her hands smoothing down her new polo shirt, “I have a lot of work to do.”
She spent the afternoon unpacking toiletries and when she finished setting up the connecting bathroom with the mountain of shampoo, conditioners, makeup and hair products, she stood in the doorway, hands on her hips. Sighing heavily, she wandered to the wide window and stood with her arms folded across her chest as she took in the view. Well, that was fun, but now what? Her eyes stared at the horizon where winter white met dazzling blue, What do you mean, now what? You have an ass-load of work to do… There’s twenty thousand dollars worth of new stuff sitting in these two rooms…
She turned from the window and sat at the table, powering up the shining laptop. Okay, so I’m gonna need a professional router, something I can reprogram… She stared at the start screen for a long minute; her hands poised over the keyboard before clicking open the browser. Her fingers glided over the keys and a faint smile tugged at her lips when she pulled up her favorite gaming site. I just need to clear my head for a few minutes… She told herself reassuringly. She hacked her way in and after creating a new user name and password, logged into the Dark Warlords video game.
She heard the light tap on her door and Alex scrubbed tiredly at her face when she crossed the room, surprised to see Gina with a dinner tray when she answered, “Oh my god, is it dinner time already?”
Gina graced her with a small smile as she entered; walking past her to deftly slide the tray on the table while simultaneously removing the tray from lunch. Alex felt her heart suddenly pound, feeling as though she’d been caught with her hand in the cookie jar. She tried not to race to the laptop, grateful she had at least kept the audio muted and just as she was about to slam down the screen on the laptop she noticed it was black, evidence she had not made a move in the game for some minutes.
Gina took the tray and left and Alex heaved a huge sigh of relief as she sank in the chair, suddenly aware of how stiff she was, Oh my god, I hope he has a gym in this place… She ran her finger over the trackpad to reactivate the monitor and stared at the game scoreboard. I don’t even remember finishing this game… Her brows furrowed as she closed the browser and clicked on the shut down function.
&nb
sp; She stood, stretching and groaning softly when she felt the popping in her vertebra. Sitting down to the dinner tray, she unrolled the cloth napkin and after draping it in her lap, uncovered the plate and felt her mouth water appreciatively at the delectable aromas, That Rose sure can cook… She dug into meal with enthusiasm, turning to look out the window at the night sky. Her thoughts drifted to Gina, and she silently scolded herself for entertaining the notion that the young woman might enjoy the company of a mature, older sister type. Being Rossi’s niece makes it dangerous to even look at her too openly… She swallowed and sniffed, shrugging absently. Everyone here has a specific function… that much is clear. She ate everything on her plate and leaned back in the chair, sipping at the wine she had poured from a small bottle on the tray,
We don’t need to wonder what Ed Coastanoa’s function is here, do we?
She mentally replayed the conversation in Rossi’s office, remembering the dread she felt when Coastanoa entered the room. Was it true? Could it be? Did he really, accidentally shoot Cathy and Chelsea? She placed the wineglass on the table and clasped her hands in her lap. Why else would he apologize? He said it was an ac… She had begun to wring her hands together and she suddenly froze, No Alexandra… she scolded harshly, Coastanoa never actually spoke… Rossi did all the talking. Long minutes passed while she sat, staring out the dark window, Okay, so what? So Rossi did all the talking, does that mean anything? She drew a deep breath and stood, crossing to the window to lower and close the blinds, The whole time… that whole conversation… the apology… and he never said one word… Why?
She stood in front of the closed blinds and parked her hands on her hips, thoughtfully chewing her lower lip. Another long minute passed and she shook her head, as if clearing it when she suddenly cocked it one side, listening intently. It sounded like Rose was passing her room with Cameron and Alex checked the time on the alarm clock on her nightstand, She’s probably getting him ready for bed… She paced slow circles in the room for several minutes then ventured into the hall, intending to say goodnight to Cameron after Rose tucked him in for the night.
