Safe and Sound (6 page)

“How did you know that he wouldn’t turn out to be worse?” Marie asked.

“We thought about that. I arranged a time to meet him. We talked for almost three hours.” She shrugged. “Maybe that’s not much. But he seemed sincere. He talked about what he’d seen, how it had changed the way he looked at things.”

“What did he say he’d seen?”

“He couldn’t be too specific. But he let me know he’d seen fighting.” Her eyes went far away. “My husband, God rest him, was in Korea,” she said. “He wouldn’t talk about it much, either. But when he came back is when he settled down. I saw the change in him then. It’s when I finally agreed to marry him.” She collected herself and looked at Marie. “So I decided to trust Sergeant Lundgren.”

“Did he say where he’d been?”

“No,” Violet said. “But I figured he’d been over to that Afghanistan.”

Marie nodded. “That makes sense. But how was he going to take care of a little girl? He’s Special Forces. He could get sent off anytime.”

Violet nodded. “I asked him about that. He just smiled, sort of mysterious. Said he had everything he needed now to take care of her.”

“Now? He said now?”

Violet looked troubled. “Yes. Come to think of it, that was a strange way to put it. Wonder what he meant by that?”

Good question, Marie thought. “So,” she said, “did he say anything about where he was going? Where he was taking her?”

Violet shook her head. “Just that she’d be safe. Among friends.”

Marie stood up. “Mrs. Prickett,” she said, “thank you for seeing me.”

Violet stood up as well. “Thank you, Miss Jones,” she said. “I’ve been wanting to tell somebody the straight story on this. I know you’ll do the right thing.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Marie said. As soon as I figure out what the hell that is, she thought.

***

Alyssa was bored. She had already seen all the stuff that was on TV, and most of her toys were back at her house. She still had FredtheFrog, and the baby doll she had named Abby. Miss Violet had made sure her dad got those. She wished her dad would come back. He had bought her a couple of games to play with, but then he’d left for a little while. The two guys Dad had introduced as her uncles were nice to her, but they didn’t seem interested in board games.

She got up and walked to the kitchen. Uncle Mike and Uncle Bobby were sitting at the table talking. They seemed upset.

“Can I have some juice?” she asked.

They jumped like she had stepped up behind them and said “boo!” She giggled. Then she saw the look on Uncle Mike’s face and she didn’t feel like laughing any more.

“Sure, honey,” he said as he got up to go to the fridge.

“What’s the matter?” she said.

“Nothing, sweetheart,” Uncle Bobby said. “We’re just having a grown-up talk, okay?”

Uncle Mike brought her some juice in her sippy cup. She took a swallow and stood there looking at them.

“When’s my dad coming back?” she asked.

“A little while,” Uncle Mike said. “A little while longer.”

She sighed. When her mom said “a little while,” it could mean anything from minutes to days. But she knew better than to ask again. She might get smacked. Her new uncles had never hit her, but you never knew. She went back into the living room and turned on the TV. She kept it on low, so she could hear the conversation in the other room. It was a trick she’d learned. If the TV was on, they didn’t think you could hear them. She had to strain her ears to listen and even then she could only catch a few words. They were talking about something being blown. Maybe something had blown up. Or maybe it had fallen over in the wind. Grown-ups were weird.

That scared feeling came back in the pit of her stomach. She picked up FredtheFrog and squeezed it tight against her chest. She felt something hard beneath the worn green felt. She wondered if she should tell Uncle Mike or Uncle Bobby about the secret that FredtheFrog had swallowed. But Dad had told her to keep it to herself.

She’d keep the secret till her dad told her it was okay.

CHAPTER SIX

Angela looked up from behind the counter as the bells on the front door jingled. The first man who walked in was young, slender, with short, perfectly cut blond hair. He was dressed in a dark blue business suit that looked as if it had been tailored to fit him. His eyes were hidden behind a pair of Ray-Bans. The woman who accompanied him looked as if she had been stamped from the same mold, except that her hair was light brown, slightly longer. She might have been attractive except for a weak chin beneath a small, thin mouth that seemed permanently pursed in disapproval. She was also conservatively dressed, if less expensively, in a pantsuit of the same shade of dark blue.

The man took off his shades. He tucked them in an inside jacket pocket. His hand came out of the pocket with a slim brown wallet. “Ms. Hager?” he said. Without waiting for an answer, he flipped the wallet open, showing a flash of gold badge that swiftly disappeared as he tucked the wallet back in his pocket. “I’m Agent Gerritsen. Federal Bureau of Investigation. This is my partner, Agent Rankin.” Rankin performed the same conjuror’s trick, the badge flashing like summer lightning, then disappearing into a coat pocket.

“I’m Angela Hager,” she said, standing up. “What can I do for you?”

“We’re attempting to locate a Jackson Keller,” Gerritsen said. “I understand that he’s employed here.”

“Mr. Keller is an employee of mine,” Angela said guardedly. “May I ask what you want to see Mr. Keller for?” she asked.

“First off,” Gerritsen said, “do you know where he is?”

“It’s his day off,” Angela said.

“That wasn’t what we asked,” Rankin said.

“No,” Angela said. “I don’t know where he is. As I said, it’s his day off.”

“He’s not at his house,” Gerritsen said. “We also had people check Miss Jones’s office and her home in Fayetteville. He’s not there, either.”

“You seem to know an awful lot about him already,” she said.

They ignored the observation. “Does he have a cell-phone number?” Rankin said.

“First, I think you need to tell me what this is about,” Angela said.

The two FBI agents looked at each other. Finally, Rankin nodded. Gerritsen turned back to Angela. “Do you know why Mr. Keller is looking for a Sergeant David Lundgren?” he said. “Sergeant Lundgren isn’t a client of yours, is he?”

“No,” Angela said. “Mr. Keller is helping out Miss Jones. She’s a friend of his. She’s a private investigator.”

“For the time being,” Rankin said.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Angela said.

“Interfering in a federal investigation is a serious matter,” Rankin said. “It could also have repercussions for your license as well.”

“I think you should get out,” Angela said.

Gerritsen took a card out of his coat pocket. “If Mr. Keller gets in touch with you,” he said, “please ask him if he’d call me at this number.” He held out the card.

Angela didn’t take it. Finally, Gerritsen sighed and put the card on the counter. He turned and walked out behind Rankin.

Angela sat down. She was shaking. She pulled the phone over toward her and dialed Keller’s cell phone.

***

As Keller pulled his car onto the concrete-slab driveway of Marie’s house, he noticed a vehicle parked on the road, across the street and one house down. He flicked off his headlights and sat in the car for a moment. As his eyes accustomed themselves to the darkness, he identified the vehicle as a Ford Taurus. He could make out the outline of a pair of shadowy figures in the front seat. He got out of the car, his eyes on the other vehicle. He thought he could see the shadow behind the wheel turn and say something to the person in the passenger seat. He began walking toward the Taurus. The headlights of the vehicle came on and the engine started. Keller broke into a run. The Taurus pulled quickly away from the curb and sped past him.

Keller tried to get a license number, but the bulb on the license plate light was out and he couldn’t make out the number in the darkness. He thought he could see the bright yellow decal of a local rental company on the rear bumper. The Taurus reached the stop sign at the corner, failed to slow down, turned, and was gone. Keller stood in the middle of the road, watching. In a few moments, he saw headlights approaching. Marie drove up in her gray Honda. Keller stepped out of her way and over to the curb as she pulled partway into the driveway.

“Hey,” she called over to him as she rolled down the passenger-side window. “What were you doing standing in the middle of the street?”

“I’ll tell you inside,” he said. Marie shrugged, rolled up the window, and pulled the rest of the way into the drive.

Keller opened the passenger side and reached into the rear seat, where Marie’s son lolled in the car seat, fast asleep. Ben was big for his five years, with a shock of tousled curly brown hair. Keller undid the straps holding Ben in the car seat and lifted him out. The boy murmured grumpily and squirmed a bit, but settled down as his head came to rest on Keller’s shoulder.

“Thanks,” said Marie, hauling a small bright green backpack out of the backseat. She fumbled briefly for her keys, then let them into the house. The front room was dark except for the steady red blink of the light on Marie’s answering machine on the table by the door.

“Don’t turn on the light,” Keller whispered. “You’ll wake him up.”

“I still need to get him into his pajamas,” Marie said. “But go ahead and put him in his bed. I’ll be in as soon as I check messages.”

Keller navigated by memory through the darkened living room, down the hallway, into Ben’s room. He laid the boy down on the bed and pulled a blanket over him. Ben yawned, then rolled over on his side and curled up. Keller stood looking down at him for a moment. He reached out as if to stroke the boy’s hair, then pulled his hand back. He turned and walked out of the room.

When Keller reentered the living room, Marie was standing by the answering machine. She still had the backpack slung on her shoulder. She had turned the light back on, and Keller could see an angry frown on her face.

“Trouble?” he said.

“Message from my ex,” she replied. “Guess the FBI’s gotten to him about me. He’s not exactly happy.” She pushed the button. The voice that came out was pure country, thickened with anger. “God damn it, Marie,” the voice said. “I don’t know what the hell you got into this time, a coupla FBI agents just left here askin’ about you and that damn boyfriend of yours. I’m talkin’ to my lawyer in the mornin’. I need to get my son outta that house.” There was a click. A mechanical voice announced “Sunday. Twelve. A.M.”

“I see you still haven’t learned to set the clock on that thing,” Keller said.

“Don’t make jokes, Keller,” she said wearily. He held out his arms and she came into them, letting Ben’s backpack slide to the floor. Keller held her tight. Finally, he said, “It’ll blow over. You said he gets like this every now and then.”

He felt Marie nod against his chest. “Every chance he gets these days. ‘I’m gonna get my lawyer and take my son back,’ ” she said, her voice a practiced imitation of the one on the machine. “He goes in, the lawyer tells him it’s going to cost some money he doesn’t want to spend, so he satisfies himself by talking ugly to me for weeks.” She sighed. “I am so fucking tired of this, Jack.”

“I know,” he said. Suddenly he remembered the Taurus. “I think they were outside,” he said.

She pulled back and looked up at him. “Who?”

“The FBI. There were two people in a rental car parked across the street. When I noticed them, they drove off fast.”

Her face darkened with anger. “They’re watching my house?” She stepped away. “Jesus!” she fumed. “Who do these bastards think they are?” The look on her face turned to uncertainty. “What’s going on here, Jack?”

“I don’t know,” he said grimly. “But Angela’s talking to Scott McCaskill. You get hold of Tammy Healy and let her know. I’ll have a talk with this agent Wilcox and see if he’s the one that sicced the Feebies on us. We’ll put a stop to it.”

She nodded. “In the meantime,” she said sadly, “I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to stay here to night, Jack.”

He started to protest, then shut his mouth. “Okay,” he said after a moment.

She came back into his arms. “I want you to,” she said against his chest. “God knows I need you. And I dragged you all the way here…But if somebody’s still watching…and this thing with my ex…you understand.”

“Yeah,” he said. “Ben’s got to be your priority.”

She looked up at him. “You’re upset,” she said.

“Yeah,” he said again. “I am. But not with you.”

She buried her face in his chest again. “I love you, Jack,” she whispered.

“I love you, too,” he said. He rested his chin on the top of her head for a moment. Then he broke the embrace. “I’d better go,” he said.

She smiled. “You better,” she said, “before I change my mind.”

He drove away, down the darkened streets. Through the windows he saw the lights of houses, the soft blue glow of televisions. He wondered at the lives of the
people in those houses, wondered what it would be like to lead a normal life. The thought of driving back to Wilmington and spending the night in his empty house depressed him even further. He turned on the radio.