What You See (6 page)

“Suppose I asked you to sit in a car with me one night and
listen to people talking. What would you say to that?”

“How much do I get paid and would I get to carry a gun?” I
wasn’t sure what he meant, but it didn’t matter. At least, I didn’t think so at
the time. I was only joking about the gun.

He leaned back and laughed the laugh of a good-natured man.

“Okay, tell me about yourself, and I don’t mean that embellished
junk most people put on job applications.”

“I’m thirty-one years old, single, and I don’t have any
children. I just moved here from
Newport News
,
Virginia
. I live with my folks in
Stanardsville. I have a dog named Athena. I inherited her from my roommate back
in
Newport News
. My life has been average and duller
than dirt, so why not make a change? I need a job. I have some money saved,
which is good because I think my car just died. I borrowed the family van.
There’s always Mom and Dad if I get desperate. I figured it was time I got a
life. I want to do something different and I think this job would definitely
qualify as different. I’ve worked for quite a few companies doing various types
of work, but never for someone who carries a gun.” I noticed the weapon in his
shoulder holster earlier when he walked out of his office. “Do you always wear
a suit to the office?”

“No, I don’t. I have an appointment with a client in an hour.
Why don’t you run over to Belk and find a skirt and a pair of shoes to go with
that pretty blouse, and be back here in time to greet them?” He reached into
his pocket and pulled out his wallet. “Here, take my credit card and ask for
Jerry. He’s the manager. I’ll give him a call.”

I couldn’t believe he was going to trust me—a stranger—with
his credit card. Was he that desperate?

“Does this mean I have the job?”

“Yes, but only temporarily. If it doesn’t work out, I’ll have
to let you go, and then I’ll send you a bill for the clothes. How’s that?”

“It sounds like a deal to me. Where’s Belk?” I asked as I
took the card from his hands.

“Go out to Rt.29 and take a left. The store’s two blocks down
on the right. Please hurry back. My appointment will be here soon.”

I left him standing in the middle of the floor and ran to the
van. It was still raining outside, but rain was the last thing on my mind. I
had a strange feeling Billy Blackhawk and I were going to become good friends.

As
soon as I walked into the store, a young man with the appearance of someone
fresh out of high school, politely greeted me. “Hello, Miss Watson. Mr.
Blackhawk called and asked me to help you find a nice outfit for the office. He
said you were having a little problem with your wardrobe due to a recent fire.
I’m sorry for your misfortune. I understand time is of the essence. A size
six?” he asked as he rushed me into a room where two ladies were busying
themselves with clothes and shoes for my benefit. Wow, talk about feeling
special!

Twenty minutes later, I was on my way out of the store,
dressed in a lightweight, black linen skirt and fitted jacket to go with my
blouse, a pair of black leather heels, and black sheer panty hose. I hadn’t
worn hose in a long time. My jeans and tennis shoes were placed in a plastic
shopping bag for easy carrying. I was a new person. The rain had let up, which
was good because I’d forgotten about the umbrella I was going to buy.

I walked into the office feeling like I was right at home.
This is where I was meant to be. I could feel it. Now all I had to do was fit
in. I was going to do my best to make Billy glad he hired me. Speaking of
which, we never did get around to discussing money. We barely knew each other
and already he was giving me a chance to... what... help him out? He needed me
to be his office girl when his clients arrived. This was to be a test. It was
either going to make or break my chances of a permanent job with Mr. Blackhawk.
I had to impress him if I wanted this job.

I walked over to my desk and stuffed my ragged excuse for a
purse in one of the drawers, just about the time Billy walked out of his
office. He had a serious look on his face.

“We don’t have much time to get to know each other before my
clients get here, but we will when they leave. For now, just follow my lead.
Act like you know what you’re doing. If I ask for a file, they’re in the back
conference room through that door.” He pointed to the closed door at the end of
the hall. “Everything’s filed under last names. The toilet’s on the left, down
the hall, and the coffee pot’s on the right. The office across from mine is
vacant, and I’ll tell you about that later. Do you have any questions? Oh,
always refer to me as Mr. Blackhawk when others are around, otherwise you call
me Billy. I’ll address you as Miss Watson in the company of clients. P.S. That’s
a nice outfit.”

I handed him back his credit card and said, “After what you
just paid, it should be nice.” Getting off the subject, I asked, “May I make a
suggestion?” He nodded his head. “Why don’t we open some of the office doors?
It seems so impersonal when everything’s closed up.”

“Good idea,” he replied. “Do you have any other suggestions?”

“You might want to do something with that funky looking car
out front. It’s an eyesore. I assume it’s yours.”

“I forgot all about that thing. It’s my surveillance car. I
usually park it in the garage out back along with my truck, but I got busy. Let
me take care of that right now.”

So that’s where that driveway leads.

“Billy, I need to call my parents and let them know what’s
going on. I have their van. They might need it.”

“Go ahead, and while you’re doing that, I’ll move my car,” he
replied as he was walking out the door.

I got on the phone and called the house. Mom answered on the
first ring. I could hear Athena barking in the background the minute she picked
up the receiver.

“Mom, I got the job, so I won’t be home until later. I hope
you don’t need the van.” Then I thought about my car. “Has Dad had a chance to
look at my car yet?”

“He has it in the garage now. Do you want me to go get him,
Jesse? Oh, about the van... don’t worry, we don’t have plans to go anywhere.”

“If he’s not too busy, ask him to come to the phone, and if
he is busy, just ask him what he thinks is wrong.”

“Hold on, and I’ll be right back,” Mom replied as she laid
down the phone.

Instantly, I heard loud barking through the receiver and a
grating noise as if someone was chewing on it. In the background I heard Mom
say, “Don’t chew on the phone cord.” She must have taken the phone from Athena
because I heard the bang of it being laid down again, and what must have been
Mom slapping her hand against her leg as she said, “Come on, girl. Let’s go
outside. That’s a good girl.”

Dad picked up the phone, caught his breath and said, “Hi,
honey.”

“Hello, Dad. Have you been running?”

“I didn’t want to keep you waiting. Your mom said you got the
job. You can tell me all about it when you get home. Right now, I hate to tell
you this, but I think your car is shot. I’m pretty sure the noise you heard was
a rod knocking. It’s pretty much a goner. The cost to fix it is way more than
the car is worth. Your best bet is to get it to a car lot now and trade it in
on a new one. Otherwise, you might as well junk it. A used car dealer isn’t
going to give you a dime for it.”

“Can’t you just replace the old rod?” I questioned. I had no
idea what he was talking about, but I knew if it could be fixed, my dad could
do it. Maybe it’s more than he wants to tackle.

“You don’t understand, Jesse. When a rod starts knocking,
that means you have to tear the engine down and rebuild it. When you take apart
an engine, you can’t put it back together with worn-out parts. Trust me.”

Trust me was what Dad always said when he was sure you could.

“If you say that’s what I should do, then that’s what I’ll
do.” I didn’t want to tell him I was down to my last couple of thousand dollars
in my savings account, plus, the money I have in my IRA is not enough to
justify a withdrawal—since the government would want half. They always do. My
checking account, minus the check I wrote to Fred for the gun, was at a little
less than $800.00. “I’ll worry about this later,” I mumbled.

Things were moving fast and now I could add to the list of
changes in my life, a new car that I can’t afford. I’ve had two used cars
altogether. Both of which, as they say, served me well, but it was time to make
a change. Mom always said things happen for a reason.

As I was hanging up the phone, Billy walked in the front door
with a man and a woman. They both were probably in their late fifties. The man
was almost bald, heavy set, with a potbelly, and was wearing a leisure suit.
The woman was petite, with brown hair that appeared to have been styled at the
beauty salon. She wore a bracelet loaded with charms, a pair of small diamond
earrings, and her diamond wedding rings were big enough to weigh down a small
boat. I envisioned the woman to be the one with the money and the class,
married to a man that she loved, but couldn’t get him properly attired,
regardless of how long they had been married. I couldn’t help but go by my first
impressions. They looked like midgets compared to Billy.

“Miss Watson, this is Jack and Myra Carrolton. Mr. and Mrs.
Carrolton, this is my assistant, Miss Watson,” Billy said as he introduced us.

“Nice to meet you,” I said. “May I get you some coffee?”

“Coffee would be nice,” Myra Carrolton responded. She was
nervous, and I could tell she was not a happy person. She was carrying a heavy
load on her shoulders, and it showed on her face.

I didn’t know what kind of problem brought them here, but it
was obvious to me from their appearance, and the way their eyes revealed a
sadness I’ve never known, that they were intense people with burdens that most
of us hope we never have to endure.

I wasn’t quite sure how involved I was going to be with
Billy’s clients, but I was about to find out.

Billy looked at the Carroltons and said, “If you don’t mind,
I’d like Miss Watson to sit in on this meeting.” After getting their approval,
he turned to me and said, “We’ll take our coffee in here, please.” He led them
to his office.

I stood there for a minute thinking, what now? They didn’t
say what they wanted in their coffee, and I didn’t get a chance to ask, so I
put my brain back in gear and walked down the hall to the coffee room. I found
a fresh pot of coffee and a well-stocked cabinet of cups, saucers, and the
usual sugar and powdered cream. On the counter was a small refrigerator. I
opened the door and sure enough, there were several small cartons of 2% milk.
After checking the date on one of the cartons, I searched the top cabinet for
something to pour it into. I found a creamer, sugar bowl, and a set of matching
mugs. In the bottom cabinet, I found a tray. I was busy pouring coffee and
arranging everything on the tray, when all of a sudden, my stomach growled. I
looked up to find a clock, and realized it was way past
noon
. I hadn’t eaten all day. I decided I’d better fix myself a
cup of coffee, so that I’d have something in my stomach. What I’d give for a
piece of bread right now. I took the tray to Billy’s office and set it on a
small table to the right of his huge desk. I went about serving coffee, while I
listened to their conversation. I waited for a cue from Billy as to what I was
supposed to do next. When he didn’t say anything, I sat down next to the table
and remained silent.

Billy was taking notes as he listened carefully to every word
Myra
and Jack were saying. I noticed he
had a tape recorder sitting in the middle of his desk, and the green light on
it was flashing.

Pretty smart, I thought. This man thinks of everything.

Myra
looked at Billy, then turned to me and said, “We’re at the end of our rope. The
police still don’t have anything, and I don’t think they’re even trying
anymore. Every time I call that police detective... oh, what’s his name, Jack?
Oh, yes... Detective Hargrove, I can almost see him rolling his eyes back in
his head. It’s been almost six months and they don’t know anymore now than they
did then. I know my daughter’s out there somewhere and she needs our help. I
can just feel it.” She burst into tears.

I jumped up, grabbed the box of tissues from Billy’s desk,
and handed it to her. This was heartbreaking. She was in so much pain.

“Mr. and Mrs. Carrolton’s daughter left Poquoson the day
after Christmas to stay a few days with a friend in
Charlottesville
, but never got there. Nobody has
seen or heard from her since,” Billy explained to me.

I sat dumbfounded, while Billy fired off questions to the
Carroltons. “What is your daughter’s full name and social security number?” he
asked, waiting for her to regain control of her emotions.

Jack Carrolton sat stiff and upright, staring straight ahead
as if he was in another world, while
Myra
dried her eyes and said, “Helen Sue Carrolton.” Then she rattled off the
number.

“She just turned nineteen in December. We bought her a new
car for a birthday and Christmas present. She’s such a sweet girl. She never
gave us a moment’s trouble. Made straight A’s almost all the way through
school. She’s in her first year at
Christopher
Newport
University
.
They were on Christmas break when she left to visit her friend Emma Lee. Emma
attends the college in
Charlottesville
. They were... are best friends. They
grew up together.” She dabbed at her eyes and continued. “Jack is Helen’s
stepfather. Her real father died when she was six. Jack has been like a father
to her since day one. He loves her as much as I do.”

That last statement sounded like she was letting us know
there was no reason to suspect her husband of anything. Maybe the police had
questioned Jack’s possible involvement in his stepdaughter’s disappearance.

Jack must have been reading my thoughts. “Yes, to the
question you are about to ask. Since I’m only her stepfather, at the very
beginning they grilled me up and down. If that wasn’t ridiculous enough, they
started giving
Myra
a raking over. Once they established
we didn’t do harm to our own child, or have anything to do with her
disappearance, they went down the list of her friends and everybody she knew...
or knows.”

Jack and
Myra
desperately wanted to believe their
daughter was alive. However, after six months of trying to find her, I think
they were beginning to accept the possibility that maybe Helen wasn’t alive,
and if that was true, they had to know. They were both wound so tight; I was
expecting one of them to go off any minute.

Billy eased himself back into the conversation. “I’m going to
do my best to find out what happened to your daughter, so I’m going to need
every bit of information I can get on her—everything.”

Then the worst thing happened. My stomach growled. What an
icebreaker. The room lit up with laughter.

“Why don’t I take us all out to lunch?” Billy asked. “We can
talk more about your daughter, and Miss Watson can make up for not having
breakfast this morning. It sounds as if she needs to eat.”

More chuckles echoed off the walls, but at least it made
Myra
stop crying. Her tears were breaking my heart.

Even though I was terribly embarrassed, I was glad it had
happened. Now we could take a break, get some food, and Billy was going to
treat. I wondered if he did this kind of thing often.