Sins of the Father (29 page)

“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 started 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?”