Sins of the Father (12 page)

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Authors: LS Sygnet

Tags: #murder, #freedom, #deception, #illusion, #human trafficking

BOOK: Sins of the Father
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“The state senator?”

“You’re gonna think I’m nuts, but yes.”

“Helen, I thought you were nuts a long time
ago. That doesn’t mean your ideas don’t pan out more often than
not.”

“Stop using my name.”

“What would you prefer?”

Teeth clamped down on my lower lip. Why not?
“Cailín. That’s not the name I’m using right now, or will ever use
in the future, so should you get an attack of pity for what
Johnny’s going through, don’t think you can give him that name to
find me.”

“Hel – Cailín, I wouldn’t do that. You do
plan on coming home eventually, don’t you?”

“My goal is to finish this as quickly as
possible and be home in time to have these kids.” Lie, lie, lie
some more. I could never go back, but hopefully, I would have the
lion’s share of my work done before Maya realized the truth.

“Is it all right if I tell Johnny that I
believe you’ll be home again soon?”

What did I care? “As long as you’re not
telling him as someone who is in regular contact with me, it’s
fine.”

“I was thinking in the context of a friend
comforting a man crippled by worry.”

Guilt is a wasted emotion. My heart hardened
despite how it wanted to resist the will of my brain. “Yes,” I
said. “Anything you can say that makes him feel hopeful is
fine.”

It was a cruel plan, heartless but
necessary.

“When will I hear from you again?”

“It might be two or three days. I need to
make sure that I’m not being followed.”

“And if you fail to check in?”

“I won’t fail.”

“That’s hardly reassuring.”

“I don’t have much time,” I said. “Tell me
what you know about the investigation into my disappearance so
far.”

“Johnny believes that whoever was working
with Gillette snatched you again. They combed every ship in the
bay, I think. Of course they found nothing. Your pal from the FBI
has instigated a full blown investigation of some sort in
Montgomery. I thought it was into the Sherman’s history, but now I
wonder if it’s not Sanderfield.”

“Excellent. They’re moving in the right
direction.”

“Crevan and Dev are checking all ports of
departure from the city, rental cars, planes, buses, the train
station, everything since they didn’t find you on another
ship.”

“All right. What about the house? Did they
find any clues to the identity of the man who attacked me there
yesterday?”

“No,” she said. “Ken went through
everything. He said the attackers must’ve worn hermetically sealed
suits. He found nothing but prints that belonged to you and Johnny.
By the way, what on earth were you doing with a laptop in the
bathtub? You’re lucky you didn’t electrocute yourself.”

“I was looking at baby stuff online.”

“Oh honey, I’m so sorry.”

“I have to go. Check your spam folder later.
I’ll try to be as obvious as I can so you know it’s me.” I paused.
“And Maya, keep your eyes and ears open. I need to know how this
investigation into Sanderfield is progressing. The sooner they
arrest him for his involvement in this, the sooner it’ll be safe
for me to come home.”

“Be careful.”

“Always.” I shut off the phone and slammed
it against the brick wall of the alleyway where we’d spoken.
Without another thought, I tossed it into a dumpster and strolled
out to the street and hailed a cab.

“Where to?”

“LAX,” I said.

It would be dark by the time I landed on
familiar turf. Nobody would see me coming or going from the house
in Georgetown. Everything I needed was already there, shipped home
covertly.

It would work. The plan had to work.

“I should’ve done this twenty years
ago.”

“‘Scuse me?”

“Sorry,” I said. “How’s traffic? My flight
leaves around two.”

“We’ll be there in plenty of time, miss.
Which terminal do you want me to drop you off at?”

“American,” I said. “Domestic flights.”

“Good enough.”

I stared out the window while the taxi
inched its way down the crawling parking lot also known as the 405
in Los Angeles. In less that two days, I’d be there. I’m not a
praying woman, but I did it now. All I needed was a couple of days
keeping Johnny misdirected. The longer he believed I’d been
abducted, the less likely he’d be to put the real pieces together
and figure out where I was going.

It wouldn’t matter after the deed was done.
I’d be in the wind on yet another identity. Untraceable. Hiding in
a country that wouldn’t send me back to the United States even if
they had an extradition treaty. Even if Johnny were tempted to come
after me, he wouldn’t. There would be no way to bring me back
without sending me to prison in the process.

Not even I believed that was an outcome
Johnny would want, even if he was as livid with me as I expected
him to eventually become.

Ready to abandon another identity at LAX, I
changed wigs once again and made my way to the American ticketing
counter and collected the ticket I purchased on the flight I would
soon board. I checked the single bag, burdened with the weight of
my fat suit and an assortment of necessary identities, made my way
through security and to the gate after a rather unhurried
late-morning snack.

My thoughts drifted back to Darkwater Bay
while I waited for the plane to taxi down the runway. If I called
Johnny right now and confessed, would he forgive what I’d done? The
day of sheer hell I’d put him through?

I knew I wouldn’t forgive him if our roles
were reversed. My heart wanted to pick up a phone, just to hear his
voice one last time. The rest of me knew better. Like it or not,
Johnny really had gotten behind the walls of the fortress. He got
under my skin – in more ways than one. My hand drifted to my
belly.

His question echoed in my head.

Will she start showing sooner because she’s
having twins?

Yet another reason to act now instead of
later. His question had only one answer. Yes. I would grow big as a
house soon. Probably look nine months pregnant at six. What had to
be done couldn’t wait another day. All procrastination did was
create missed opportunities. The emotional snare Johnny provided
was already too strong.

Almost.

The cold heart thumping in my chest was
surely genetic, and it had to have come from Aidan Conall. Not even
Wendell possessed the cruelty I doled out now. Maybe Marie had some
of it. After all, I was certain that she was the guilty party in
all of this. Given her lack of emotional bond with me, I couldn’t
fathom why she did it.

“Miss, would you like a blanket and pillow?”
One of the flight attendants gently touched my shoulder.

“Yes, please.”

We’d fly into darkness according to the east
coast clock, landing in the middle of the night in Washington D.C.
A short layover in Dallas would put my flight on the ground at home
shortly after midnight, and a quick trip to the brownstone would
let me catch up on the sleep my pregnancy seemed to demand. Then
the real journey would begin.

I reclined my seat, adjusted the pillow and
let my eyes finally close, secure in my belief that this plan would
work. It had to work. The ramifications of failure were simply
unacceptable.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter 11

Springtime had come early to Washington D.C.
Even though I arrived at the brownstone under cover of darkness,
the smell of cherry blossoms overwhelmed me. It wasn’t as pleasant
as I remembered, thanks to my continuous queasy state.

Or maybe I was feeling homesick. It was hard
work, severing the emotional threads that tied me to Darkwater Bay.
I thought about Johnny too much, wondered if he was doing what I
hoped, and focusing on Terrell Sanderfield as the best means of
finding me.

He’d probably kill me at best when this was
over. If he could find me. My promises to Maya, that I’d come home
when all of this was over were about as hollow as a Fabergé egg. My
options were limited. Go back and face the charges that would no
doubt follow my brazen act, or run away.

No brainer. I like fresh air too much to
give it up.

I made my way through the brownstone in the
dark as I had many times before. The dust covers on the bed
upstairs were coated with a fine sheen of powder. It sent me into
what seemed to be a never ending succession of sneezes when I
pulled it off the bed and curled up to sleep. Exhaustion erased any
sinus irritation, and I slept until sunshine streaming through the
east windows of the bedroom blinded me.

I rubbed my eyes and glanced at my watch.
Ten-fifteen. Still very early in Darkwater Bay. I wondered what
Johnny was doing, if he’d gotten any sleep in the past two days.
Was it Wednesday already? Time flies. Even when you’re not having
fun.

Lack of choices stripped the joy from
life.

I rolled out of bed and padded down the
stairs to the kitchen.

Dusty bin of coffee.

Dusty coffee maker.

I rinsed out the carafe and wiped down the
outside of the machine. Within moments, the pervasive stale smell
of vacancy was replaced with the aroma of a Peruvian blend. I dug
one of the remaining pre-paid cell phones out of my purse and
dialed Maya’s number.

I knew I told her not to expect me to call
for a couple of days, but if all went according to plan, I wouldn’t
be around to make a phone call at the end of the week. Plus, I’d
slept too late to sneak out of the house without being seen by the
neighbors.

“Winslow.”

“It’s me.”

“This isn’t a good time,” she said.

I glanced at my watch again. Not even eight
in Darkwater Bay yet.

“Has something happened?”

“Yes. Could you possibly call back in thirty
minutes?”

“Maya, is this related to me? Does someone
know where I am?”

“We’ll talk later. Thirty minutes.”

The distinctive click let me know the call
was over, but not before I heard the sound of male voices in the
background. One of them was crystal clear, not only because of a
strong phone connection, but because it was a voice that haunted
me.

Johnny.

I paced while the minutes ticked by. At one
point, I was sure the hands on my watch stopped, maybe even started
moving backward. I guzzled coffee until my hands trembled.

Thirty minutes, four seconds passed. I
dialed the number again.

“Cailín?”

“It’s me. Can you talk now?”

Her voice echoed when she spoke. “Yes, I can
talk, but I don’t have much time before somebody comes looking for
me. I’m in the women’s locker room, allegedly changing into scrubs
so I can do an autopsy. One I might add, that everyone is anxious
for me to perform.”

“Tell me what happened.”

“Where are you? Johnny is going nuts,
Helen!”

I sucked in a steadying breath. “This
autopsy, do they think it’s related to my disappearance?”

“What else?” she hissed impatiently. “I
think a hold up at a liquor store in Darkwater proper would somehow
be linked to your alleged abduction right now. Please end this,
Helen. It’s killing me to lie to everyone. Johnny is beside
himself. He was crying this morning, for God’s sake.
Crying
!”

“I need to know what happened. If it’s
related to the case, it could help me with what I’m doing right
now.” Speaking of lies, mine flowed without a speck of remorse.

“Destiny Gerard is dead.”

Datello’s former right hand woman, guilty of
trying to kidnap his daughter the second time? My mind boggled. I
must’ve heard her wrong. “
What
? How did that happen?”

“It would appear that she hanged herself
with the sheet off her bed in the county jail, but not before she
reiterated Alfred Preston’s statement that poor little Melissa
Sherman is nothing but an innocent rube in all of this. She made a
statement to the district attorney last night claiming that Danny
Datello was the mastermind behind the whole human trafficking
ring.”

“Bullshit,” I said. “I find it pretty damn
suspicious that everyone is willing to die but not before they try
to shield this woman. What the hell is so important about her
anyway?”

“I have no idea. Does that help you at
all?”

“Not sure yet. Why is everyone so hot for an
autopsy if you’re sure it was suicide?”


I’m
sure it’s suicide. They need the
science. I don’t know, Helen. I tell you what would thrill me right
about now. I wish Sherman would off herself too. Case closed.”

“Not really. Sherman knows something very
important. That’s probably why everyone else is so eager to get her
out of jail. I have no doubt that she’ll disappear without a trace
if that happens. Please tell me that Zack didn’t buy that bogus
statement Gerard made last night.”

“He wanted hard evidence, something concrete
and tangible that would prove Datello was behind everything. She
couldn’t provide it, so no, he wasn’t buying it. And Helen,
speaking of disappearing without a trace, I’m begging you to set
things right with Johnny. Even if you won’t let him come to you and
help you with whatever rogue agent insanity has infected you this
time, you could at least tell him that you’re safe, that you’re not
chained in the cargo hold of some ship that managed to slip out of
the bay before they searched it.”

“If you think this is hard for him, Maya,
you haven’t seen ballistic, and you would if I told him the truth.
No, he needs to focus on Sanderfield.”

“He’s dispatched Levine to Montgomery for
that job. Johnny has made it perfectly clear that you are his only
priority right now. Remember what I said. Crying, Helen. Johnny
Orion, the prototype for all alpha males in the universe was
weeping like a baby not ten minutes ago.”

“I’ll make it up to him when this is over. I
already told you that.”

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