Chapter 28

                       

 

            Cord picked Rick up at five on Saturday morning, just like he'd picked Rick up at five a.m. the three previous Saturday mornings. 

 

            Rick approached the open driver's window.  "You don't need to get out.  Just pop the lock on the back.  I'll put this stuff in myself."

 

            Cord reached down by his left knee and did as Rick requested.  The detective stowed his gear.  Rather than slam the cargo hold's door shut. he eased it closed so he wouldn't disturb his slumbering neighbors.  He climbed in the passenger side of the vehicle, immediately taking note of a significant absence.

 

            "Where's Logan?"

 

            "He's sicker than a dog this morning."

 

            "What's wrong with him?"                                                        

 

            Cord glanced to the left and right, then pulled the Ford out of the marina's parking lot and onto the road.  "Casey said he’s been throwing up throughout the night, and has chills and a fever.  There was just no way I could make him come with me this weekend, even though it's vital he be there."

 

            "Vital?"

 

            "Since Vic's supposed to be back, the boys are resuming some practice exercises that were put aside while he was recovering from his surgery.  Logan was a key part of those exercises."

 

            "What kind of exercises?"

 

            Cord grinned at his friend while reaching over to pat a knee.   "Don't ask me any more questions, Sarge.  It's a surprise."

 

            Oh boy.  A surprise.  As if I hadn't already figured as much.  Well, Cord, old pal, I hate to break it to ya,' but I've got a surprise or two up my sleeve this weekend as well.

 

            "Say, Rick, there's no use in you hauling your gear out to the camp every weekend, and then haul it back home.  I can make room in my lockers for your clothes.  Why don't you plan to leave them out there along with your sleeping bag."   

 

            "Sure.  Good idea.  I'll do that."  Rick reached for the thermos that rested between him and Cord.  He had no desire to discuss the possibility of future weekends together. 

"How about some coffee?"

 

__________________________________

           

 

            Lauren stood in the kitchen packing a large cooler with sandwiches, peaches, bananas, cheese slices, granola bars, cookies, soft drinks, and juice boxes.  Breakfast had been eaten and the kitchen cleaned up.  Tanner was walking Toby around the block while Shane was putting a gym bag filled with jackets, towels, hand wipes, Band-Aids, sunscreen, aspirin, and bug repellant into the mini-van.  The last member of Mrs. Simon's household, her husband, was up in the master bathroom taking a shower.

 

            The woman was still trying to figure out how to fit everything in the cooler when the phone rang.  She reached for it, tucking the receiver between her shoulder and ear. 

 

            "Hello?"

            Silence on the other end.

 

            "Hello?"

 

            This time Lauren thought she could hear heavy breathing.  It was a strange sound though.  As if air was being pushed in and out of someone's lungs by a mechanical device of some sort.

 

            "Hello?"

 

            Now a garbled noise came forth that Lauren could only make out as, "Ug, ug, ug."

 

            "Sorry, fella, I'm not interested."  The woman slammed the phone down with all her strength.  She hoped the obscene caller was rubbing an aching ear.

 

            Lauren had no time to give the call further thought. Tanner burst through the kitchen with Toby at his heels.  "Please give Toby fresh water and make sure his food bowl is full."  She craned her neck, looking toward the open door in the den that led to the garage.  "Shane, don't forget to put your backpack and your brother's in the van!  You guys will be going home with Dad and Kathy after the tournament!"

 

            "I know!  I'll get 'em!"  Shane ran through the doorway and up the stairs.  He met A.J. coming down.

 

            The blond man crossed through the den and into the kitchen.  "We ready to go?"

 

            "As soon as I get this lid on.”  The woman snapped the big lid in place. “There.  Now we're ready."  Lauren started to lift the red cooler by its handles.  

 

            "Hey, hey," A.J. negated.  "No.  That's too heavy.  I'll get it."

            "A.J., I'm perfectly capable of carrying this cooler to the van."

 

            "And so am I."  A.J. leaned forward and planted a kiss on this wife's lips.  "You get the boys and make sure the house is locked up.  I'll get this."

 

            A.J. hefted the cooler off the counter.  He was halfway to the garage when he turned around.   "Oh, by the way.  Who was on the phone?"

 

            "Crank call."  Lauren glanced up at the clock to see they were already running late.  "Just some kids goofing around."

 

            The woman locked the kitchen door and then made certain the French doors were locked.  "Go on, Tanner," she urged.  "You said you wanted to ride with A.J.  Hurry now and get in the Camaro."  She paused by the stairway on her way to the garage.  "Shane, come on!  Let's go!  We have to leave!"

 

            Lauren had no idea that if she'd only told A.J. more details about her crank call, he would have known exactly who was on the other end.

           

__________________________________

              

 

            Joey wanted to cry.  He'd struggled so hard to slide the portable phone off the kitchen counter and onto his tray.  When he got to his computer he struggled for a full hour to get the phone into the cradle that was hooked up to the computer's speakers.  He'd never communicated with the outside world this way before, but he knew it could be done.  He'd used his computer to dial up the number he'd found the evening before in the San Diego phone directory provided by the Internet.  He'd been counting on his tutor to pick up on the other end.  When a woman answered, Joey frantically bobbed his head, trying to get his pointer on the letters A and J.  But before his computerized voice told her he wanted to speak with A.J. Simon, she'd hung up on him.

 

            He realized now it had been a stupid plan all along.  He should have simply dialed 911.  Even if he didn't ‘talk’ to the dispatcher, the dispatcher would know what address the call had come from.  Joey knew it was normal procedure in most cities to send a police officer to a home where a silent 911 call originated from.  He could do that right now.  He could have his computer dial those three simple numbers, then he could be waiting at the door for the cop.  Logan and Casey were still asleep.  Joey's father was the one who'd gotten him up and dressed this morning when he'd noticed Joey awake before dawn.  Joey could get his wheelchair out the door that led to the garage, and be waiting on the sidewalk for the cop.  Of course, he'd have to bring him in to the sunroom to communicate with him, but if luck were with him the officer would be sympathetic to his plight and willingly follow him. 

 

            With his pointer, Joey indicated to the number 9 and then to the number 1.  He was just about to nod to the number 1 again when a hand whipped out of nowhere and pulled the computer's plug.

 

            "I don't think so, sweetheart."  Casey smiled down at him as the screen went black.  "I do not think so."

 

            The nurse grasped the hose that ran from Joey's respirator to the hole in his throat.  With one easy squeeze she kinked it in the middle.  As Joey's body fought and struggled for air she said,  "You just made your first and last mistake, Joseph Franklin."

                                                           

Chapter 29

 

            At eight minutes to nine the Simon family arrived at the massive park that held four soccer fields.  A.J. hustled the boys toward the field where their team was scheduled to begin play at nine sharp.  He jogged backwards a moment, calling final instructions to his wife. 

 

            "Don't you lift that cooler by yourself!  If you can't get someone to help you with it I'll get it when we have our first break!"

 

            Lauren threw her husband a mock salute.  "Go on now!  Don't worry about me and this cooler!"

 

            Rob swung his white Chevy mini-van into a parking spot next to Lauren's vehicle.  The man greeted his ex-wife by taking in her pronounced stomach and teasing,  "Looks like you're in charge of all the extra soccer balls today, Mrs. Simon."

 

            Lauren laughed while rubbing her hands over her tight abdomen.  "I certainly feel like I'm in charge of all the extra soccer balls."   She pointed in the direction A.J. and her sons had just taken.  "A.J. and the boys went that way."           

 

            Kathy climbed out of the passenger side of the vehicle, while Rob's parents disembarked from the sliding side door.  Rob said goodbye to everyone and took off at a run toward the fields.   

 

            Kathy helped Lauren transfer the gym bag and backpacks from the Dodge mini-van to the Chevy.  Lauren's former father-in-law insisted on carrying her cooler to a set of picnic tables that were under a distant grove of shade trees.  Kathy hoisted her own cooler from the back of her van and followed in Bob Albright's footsteps.  Before she got very far Lauren's parents arrived.  Mac McAllister took the burden from the woman.  As Lauren, her mother, her former mother-in-law, and Kathy trailed behind the men chit chatting, Lauren couldn't help but think how thankful she was that the people who loved her boys the most had learned to put aside differences caused by the divorce and come together as a family on days like this.

 

            The group sat together on the bleachers that morning cheering Shane and Tanner on.  Cecilia even stopped by for a little while, but because of other obligations couldn't stay long.  The morning round-robin tournaments came to an end at noon.  Everyone was told to enjoy their lunches, then return to the fields by one o'clock.

 

            The Simons, McAllisters, and Albrights made their way to the picnic tables where their coolers rested. The men pushed the two tables together so they could sit in one big group.  The large quantities of food Lauren and Kathy had brought were passed around the table along with cold drinks.  When everyone declared they'd had enough the leftovers were put back on ice and covered.  Lauren knew by three o'clock all her ‘boys’ would be ready for a snack.

 

             At quarter to one Lauren said her goodbyes.  She and A.J. had driven separately because she knew she'd never last all day in the warm sun.   Already she was drowsy and looking forward to the nap she planned to take when she got home.

 

            The woman kissed her boys.  "You guys have a fun afternoon.  Be good for Dad and Kathy."

 

            "We will," Shane promised while Tanner gave his mother a hug.

 

            A.J. walked his wife to the mini-van.  She kissed him before she climbed in.  "Don't forget our reservation at Le Chateau for your birthday dinner."

 

            "I won't.  You said you made it for nine?"

            "Yes.  I figured that would give you time to get home, clean up, and take a cat nap if you wanted to."

 

            "It should.  I'm sure I'll be home by seven, give or take a few minutes either way."

 

            Lauren reached for the sunglasses she had laying on the dashboard.  "Oh, and Mom and Dad would like us to come over tomorrow afternoon for a cookout along with Lisa, Jeff, and the girls.  They want to celebrate your birthday and Lisa's."

 

            Lauren's sister had turned thirty-six the previous Tuesday.

 

            "That's okay with me."

 

            "We don't have to be there until four, so we'll still have most of the day to ourselves.  I asked Rob and Kathy if we could pick up the boys and take them as well.  They said that was fine, they don't have any plans."

 

            A.J. nodded his agreement to the arrangements.  He shut the van's door for his wife and gave her final instructions as she started the engine.  "Drive carefully.  And take a nap when you get home.  You've done more than enough for one day."

 

            Lauren leaned out the open window and kissed her husband again.  "Oh, kind sir, you truly are my knight in shining armor."

 

            A.J. rolled his eyes at his wife's teasing.  "Just do as I ask, okay?  I have enough concerns on my mind without worrying about you and junior, too."

 

            "Rick?"

            A.J.'s smile left him.  "Yes, Rick."

 

            Although Lauren hadn't been told the details, she was well aware A.J. and Rick had met with Pellman Creek on Monday evening. She also knew both her husband and brother-in-law were hoping whatever was discussed that night brought a culmination to their case over this weekend.

 

            "Rick will be fine, honey.  No matter what the circumstances, he can take care of himself."

 

            A.J.'s, "Yes, he can," wasn't spoken with much confidence, and that troubled Lauren the entire drive home.

 

_______________________________________

 

            Rick would have thought it impossible for him and Cord to still find things to talk about on the three hour drive out to the camp.  But talk they did, their subjects ranging from Vietnam, to Cord's sons, to sports, to a television program they both enjoyed.  Their camaraderie didn't make thoughts of the weekend ahead any easier on Rick, but he did a good job of acting as though he was without a care in the world.

 

            Four miles outside of Camp Cord, Rick glanced up at two telephone linemen perched high on a pole.  He couldn't help but wonder if these were already FBI agents Pellman Creek had in position.  He wondered that again as they passed three women on bicycles, and again when Cord drove by a man jogging with his dog. 

 

            Don't be concerned with it, Rick cautioned himself.  If you act interested every time you see a guy out runnin' with his pooch, Cord will know something's up for sure.

 

            The two men entered the camp without incident.  As usual, Tom Bidwell approached as soon as the Expedition came to a halt behind the mess hall.

 

            "General."  The man's salute was crisp.  "Sergeant."

 

            Cord saluted back, Rick merely nodded his head.  He didn't miss the heavy scowl Bidwell tossed his way at what the man perceived to be Rick's deliberate insubordination.

 

            Before Cord or Rick got a chance to unload the vehicle a man approached from the compound. 

 

            "General, can I see you a minute?"  The sandy-headed man held up a notebook.  "I have some things to go over with you regarding today's training maneuvers."

 

            "Be right there, Sergeant Nelson.  Wait for me in the mess hall."

 

            The man nodded and rounded the corner of the building. 

 

            Cord turned to his lieutenant.  "Give Rick a hand with our stuff, would you, Tom?  Thanks, pal."  He shot Rick a parting smile.  "I'll meet you in our cabin a few minutes.  You go ahead and push some of my clothes aside in order to make room for yours."

 

            "Will do."

 

            Cord followed the same path Larry Nelson had taken.  In a matter of seconds, Rick heard the mess hall's screen door bang shut.        

 

            As soon as Cord was out of sight, Bidwell slammed a finger into Rick's chest. "You'll do well to remember I outrank you, Simon, and salute me."

 

            Rick walked around to the back of the Ford.  "I haven't saluted anyone since I got outta the Corps, and I sure as hell don't intend to start now."

 

            Bidwell stomped after Rick.   His hand flew out, snatching the sleeve of Rick's camouflage shirt.

 

            Rick turned.  Tom Bidwell's eyes locked with his.  For a long moment neither of them would break their stare.  Finally, Rick reached up and squeezed the man's wrist with all his strength.  A strength that came as a surprise to Bidwell as evidenced by the mixture of pain and astonishment on his face.

 

            "If you know what's good for you, Tom, you won't mess with me."         

 

            Rick couldn't quite figure out why the man was smiling as he backed away.  Bidwell pointed two fingers at the detective.  "No, Rick, you've got that wrong.  All wrong.  It's you who shouldn't be messing with me."

 

            "Is that a threat?"

 

            Bidwell threw his head back and laughed.  "Simon, believe me, I don't need to waste my breath threatening you.  One doesn't threaten when one knows the facts."

 

            Long after the man disappeared from sight, Rick couldn't help but stand there and wonder just what facts Bidwell supposedly knew.  With a guy like that it was hard to tell.  He could be full of hot air; just spouting off because he was angry at the way Rick had humiliated him.   On the other hand, his jealously over Rick's friendship with Cord could have prodded him into doing some snooping. 

 

            The detective hiked his sleeping bag over one shoulder and his duffel bag over the other.  He had a feeling this was going to be one very long day.  He'd be glad when the FBI swarmed this camp and his involvement in this case came to an end.  Rick glanced at his watch as he walked toward Cord's cabin.  Nineteen hours. The raid would start in nineteen hours.

 

            In nineteen hours my life will get back to normal, Rick thought while entering the little house and throwing his things on the top bunk.  Back to normal.  Damn, but I do like the sound of that. 

                       

_________________________________

                             

 

            Lauren Simon arrived home at twenty minutes after one.  She grabbed the mail out of the slot by the door and was leafing through it when she entered the kitchen.  So A.J. could do the same when he arrived home, she made a neat stack of the envelopes, and then placed them beside the phone that resided on the kitchen counter top.  The woman called for Toby.  The short-legged dog bumped down from the upper story.  Lauren bent and petted the hound, then let him out the French doors.  He trotted down the steps of the deck and into the small back yard.      

 

            Lauren took her shoes and socks off.  She set the items by the stairs and returned to the kitchen where she poured herself a glass of cold orange juice.  By the time she'd emptied the glass Toby was barking to be let back in.

 

            "Too hot for you out there this afternoon, Toby boy?"  Lauren shut and locked the French doors.   "Come on with me then.  Let's go upstairs and take a nap."

 

            The woman laughed at the fat little dog that trotted ahead of her as though he understood every word.  She had no doubt he'd spent the entire morning sleeping, and would spend the entire afternoon doing the same if she'd allow it.  She picked up her shoes and socks as she passed and followed Toby up the stairs.  By the time she entered the master bedroom Toby was curled in his favorite spot on the carpeting next to A.J.'s side of the bed. 

 

            Lauren grabbed a light blanket off the closet shelf and lay down on top of the bedspread.  She still had on the yellow shorts and white and yellow checked maternity top she'd worn to the soccer field.  She spread the blanket over her bare legs and reached for the hardcover book on her nightstand.   She made it through one chapter of Sue Grafton's latest thriller before falling asleep.

 

            The pregnant woman didn't stir again until four o'clock.  She smiled when she woke to find her open book still balanced on her belly.  She removed it and set it back on her nightstand.

 

            I must have really been tired.  I never fall asleep when I'm reading.  It's usually A.J. who wakes up with an open book on his stomach.

 

            Lauren shifted position and slowly stretched first her right leg and then her left.  She'd learned from past experience that rising too quickly this late in her pregnancy almost always prompted painful cramps in her calves.  The light exercises felt good, and also helped wipe away the remaining remnants of sleep. 

 

            Lauren carefully stood, making sure she had her balance before moving too quickly.  She folded the blanket and returned it to the closet shelf, then ran her hands over the bedspread to smooth out the wrinkles made by her reclining body.  She made a pit stop in the master bath before stepping into the hallway.  She walked down to her sons' room and conducted the quick inspection she'd meant to do before they left the house that morning.  Often times a homework assignment, or some other item that would be needed during the week Shane and Tanner were at their father's house, was accidentally left behind.  Usually Lauren prevented this situation before it occurred by taking a look in their bedroom prior to the time they had to leave for Rob's. 

 

            Lauren saw nothing out of the ordinary when she entered her sons' domain.  They'd even done a pretty good job of picking up toys and books that morning, and returning the items to their proper shelves.  She found one stray game piece for Operation that she slipped into the box, and a coloring book Tanner had left open on the homework counter.  She closed the book and put it in the cabinet.  Like she'd done in her own room a few minutes earlier, she ran her hands over the bedspreads that were in need of a woman's touch.  The boys made their own beds every morning, but that wasn't to say the bunks still didn't look like someone was sleeping in them when they were finished. 

 

            Lauren fluffed pillows, tucked blankets under mattresses, and pulled the spreads taunt until a quarter would bounce off of them.  She struggled to get down on her knees and look under the bottom bunk.  She pulled out two dirty socks, a grass stained pair of shorts, a T-shirt splotched with grape jelly, and a half-eaten peanut butter sandwich.  She shook her head as she deposited the clothes in the bathroom hamper and headed downstairs to throw away the moldy sandwich.  She scolded her youngest out loud as though he was present.

 

            "Tanner Reed, how many times have I told you not to stash things under your bed?  When I tell you to put your dirty clothes in the hamper, that's where they're supposed to end up.  Ever since Rick told you he used to clean his room in record time by throwing all his things under his bed I've been doing nothing but dig junk out from under yours.  I swear, both you and Rick are going to be in trouble when I get my hands on the two of you."

 

            Lauren threw the sandwich away in the kitchen garbage can.  She'd have to remember to tell A.J. about Tanner's latest escapade.  Her husband was always amused by the whims ands ways of the six-year-old.

 

            The copper headed woman puttered around the kitchen a few minutes.  She emptied the clean dishes from the dishwasher, putting plates, bowls, and utensils in the appropriate cabinets and drawers.  She hung the coffee mugs on the mug tree by the sink, then walked the garbage can out to the garage where she emptied it into the big plastic barrel that A.J. would set by the curb on Monday morning. 

 

            When Lauren's kitchen chores were finished she returned to the upper level of the home.  She retrieved a small leather suitcase from the back of her closet and laid it on the bed.   The only thing she had left to do in preparation of the baby's arrival was pack her own bag for the trip to the hospital.  Provided things went well, she would be released within twenty-four hours of the birth.  For just that reason, it didn't take Lauren long to accomplish her task.  A pair of tan maternity slacks and a blue, oversized man-style shirt were folded and placed in the bottom of the case.  As much as Lauren would have preferred to put in a favorite pair of faded size eight Levi's and a T-shirt, past experience told her it would be twelve weeks after the baby's arrival before her formerly slim figure returned.

 

            Socks, a pair of blue tennis shoes, underwear, and a nursing bra followed the clothes into the suitcase.  The expensive silk nightgown, Chinese-style robe, and Chinese slippers A.J. had surprised her with the previous week went in last.  When he'd given Lauren the gifts he'd told her to reach in the side pocket of the delicate robe.  She'd found two tickets for a November showing of Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat at a theatre in San Francisco.  A handwritten note from A.J. was attached to the tickets that told her this would be their first weekend away without the baby.  He'd already made arrangements for the newborn to spend that Friday, Saturday, and Sunday with his mother, and for Shane and Tanner to spend the weekend with Rick.  Lauren couldn't explain to her husband why his thoughtfulness made her cry, she only knew she loved him even more for these precious things he continuously did for her.

 

            Lauren grabbed a piece of paper, a pen, and a roll of Scotch tape from the drawer of A.J.'s nightstand.  She wrote herself a note that read; makeup bag, hairbrush, blow dryer, shampoo, toothbrush and paste, book.  She closed her suitcase and taped the note to the outside of it.  She didn't want to forget these items she used every day in the rush to leave for the hospital.  Not that there should be any rush.  Especially if her past labors were predictors of this one, as Doctor Hazlett said was a strong possibility.  But, knowing A.J., he'd be urging her out the door the minute she felt the first slight twinge that indicated the baby was on its way.

 

            The woman returned the items she'd borrowed from A.J.'s nightstand drawer.  She carried the suitcase down the hall to the nursery and placed it on the closet floor next to the car seat and packed diaper bag.  There was nothing else she could think of that would be needed in those first twenty four hours.  And, if on the off chance there was something she was lacking, Rick or Cecilia could always bring it to her since A.J. wouldn't be leaving the hospital until he brought his wife and child home. 

 

            Lauren was pre-registered to make use of a new wing of County General's maternity ward called The Birthing Inn.  The expectant mothers    

labored and delivered in private hospital rooms that were decorated like a bedroom feature right out of Better Homes and Gardens.   The experience was said to be as close to a home birth as one could get, while still having the medical equipment of the hospital readily available should an emergency arise.  The baby's father remained in the room throughout the mother's entire stay, as did the baby once it arrived.  Aside from the mother's bed, a covered bassinet was part of each room's décor, as was a couch that folded back to make a bed for the father.  This would be slightly different than what Lauren experienced when she had Shane and Tanner.  Granted, Rob had been with her throughout the labors and deliveries of both boys, but she'd been moved three different times, from labor room, to delivery room, and then finally to the two-bed room she shared with another new mother.  That situation meant Rob didn't stay with his wife and child overnight.  Nor was he pressed into service by the nurses when it came to caring for the newborn infant as A.J. would be.  Both Lauren and A.J. were really looking forward to those first twenty-four hours alone together with their baby.  In her mind's eye Lauren could already picture A.J. changing his first diaper and giving his first bath.  He'd never complain about such tasks like Rob had.  She knew it would be just the contrary.  A.J. would relish each new experience with his baby and take great delight in being a daddy in every sense of the word.

 

            The woman rubbed her hands over her stomach as she did a lot now days without even realizing it.  She looked down and said,  "You don't know yet how lucky you are, little one.  You're going to have the kind of Dad every child dreams about.  He loves you so much, and he loves your brothers and your mommy with all the love his heart has to give.  We're all so lucky, baby Simon.  After this weekend is over, and your Uncle Rick is back with us, you can make your premiere any time you feel like it, okay?"

 

            As if in answer to her question, Lauren felt a kick against her hand.  She laughed.  "Ah, another comedian like your brother Tanner and your Uncle Rick, huh?  I don't know if your poor father can take another joker in the family."

 

            The lighthearted Lauren exited the nursery.  She returned to the master bedroom where she sat in a chair and put on her socks and shoes.  She tied the last lace and stood. 

 

"Come on, Toby.  Wake up there you lazy hound dog.  It's time for our walk."

 

            Toby yawned, stretched, and then pushed himself to his stubby legs.  He followed his mistress down the stairs and stood patiently while she attached his leash to his collar. 

 

            Lauren grabbed her house-keys off the counter, locked the kitchen door behind her, and stepped out into the afternoon sunshine with Toby at her side. 

               

_________________________________

           

            Allison Baker dashed through the terminal at San Diego's Lindbergh field.  The garment and carry-on bags she had slung over her right shoulder knocked an uneven rhythm against her hip.  She skirted around a family that had just arrived from Chicago, barely taking notice that she almost bowled over their four-year-old daughter.  Allison ran toward the wide stairway with the blue sign hanging over it labeled LUGGAGE.  She silently cursed anyone who got in her way.  She weaved in and out of people like a speeding car changing lanes on a freeway.   She flew down the stairs with the same reckless abandon.  Her eyes scanned more signs until she came to the round turnstile that should deliver her suitcase.

 

            Allison glanced at her watch.  "Come on, come on," she urged under her breath.  Luggage traveled by her, but none of the bags were hers.

 

            "I don't have time for this."  She mumbled with increasing impatience.  "I've got to get a hold of A.J."

 

            Nothing had gone right for Allison since the moment she'd left Troy Andrews' house.  She'd been unable to contact the pilot who'd flown her to the island, meaning she couldn't arrange for an earlier departure time.  When he did arrive on Friday he was three hours late while claiming mechanical problems with the plane.  By looking at his bloodshot eyes Allison was more inclined to believe he'd been sleeping off a hangover, but by then she was in such a rush to depart she didn't care.  She threw her bags in the back of the little plane and practically pushed the slow-moving man into the cockpit.

 

            His delay in picking Allison up only caused the woman further delays with all the connections she'd made to get her back to California.  Based on the phone conversation she'd overheard, Allison knew time was running short. 

 

            She flicked a glance at her watch again, and then craned her neck toward the turnstile.  When she still didn't spot her camel colored leather suitcase she cursed,  "Oh, screw it," turned and raced for the nearest exit.  She stopped short when she came to a long bank of pay phones.  Her plan had been to see A.J. in person rather than phone him.   She knew fully well as soon as she identified herself he'd hang up on her.  But now she feared she had no choice but to call him. 

 

            After all these years, Allison hadn't forgotten A.J.'s number.  She punched it in from memory.  She tapped a foot while she counted the rings.  One, two, three, four, five, and then an answering machine clicked on. A little boy's voice spoke.

 

            "Thanks for calling A.J.'s house.  We're having fun right now and can't come to the phone.  But if you wanna talk to A.J., Lauren, Shane, or me...I'm Tanner...leave a message after the beep.  Oh, and if you wanna talk to our dog, Toby, bark three times. Bye."

 

            Allison almost did as Tanner requested and left a message, but then thought better of.  She slammed the phone down and once again ran for the exit.  She'd hail a taxi and go to the hotel suite she kept reserved for herself whenever she was in San Diego.  She'd take a quick shower, leave her bags there, and try calling A.J.'s house again.  If he still wasn't home then she'd have a cab take her to his house, where she'd camp out on his doorstep until he did arrive.                          

 

            The woman looked out of the window as the taxi made its way through the city streets.  She paid no attention to the passing scenery, the urgent plea inside her head leaving room for little else.

 

            You've got to be home, A.J.  You've got to be home, and you've got to be willing to listen to me.  Please be willing to listen to me.                

 

__________________________________

               

 

            Allison tried calling A.J.'s house again as soon as she rushed into her tenth floor suite.  Once again all she got was that cute little voice on the answering machine.  The woman entered the suite's bedroom and threw her bags on the king sized bed.  She stripped off her clothing and headed for the bathroom.  She hadn't bathed since her Thursday afternoon shower with Troy.  Thirty hours of non-stop travel had left her feeling dirty and tired.

 

            As much as she would have liked to, Allison didn't linger under the hot jets of pulsing water.  She soaped up her body and hair, thoroughly washed both, then rinsed off.  She stepped out of the tub and grabbed for a fluffy maroon towel almost as long as she was tall, using it to dry her body and hair.  She didn't bother to dig her blow dryer out of her overnight bag.  Her natural amber curls would spring back into place on their own.  She rushed back to the bedroom and retrieved from her zippered overnight bag the only casual clothing she had with her - Wrangler jeans, a pink Oxford shirt, a pair of silk underpants and matching bra, and a pair of white socks.  She pulled on her clothing and slipped her feet back in her Nike cross trainers.  She wadded up the dirty clothing she had laying on the bed and threw the items in her bag.  She didn't bother digging for her makeup.  She wasn't out to win a beauty contest, or to win A.J.'s heart.  All she wanted was for him to listen to what she had to say.

 

            Allison hurried to the luxurious living area.  Just as she was dialing the third digit in A.J.'s phone number there was a knock on her door.  She put the phone back in its cradle and called, "Who is it?"

            A young male voice answered.  "Room service, ma'am."

 

            Although Allison hadn't placed an order for room service, it wasn't unusual for the hotel to anticipate the needs of its wealthy clientele.  It was almost five-thirty.  Therefore, the desk clerk might have taken it upon himself to send up some sort of meal for her.

 

            Allison bustled over to the door.  She didn't even look when she unlocked it and flung it open.  She turned her back and headed for the phone again.  "Just leave whatever it is right here. Have Martin add your tip to my bill."        

 

            Before Allison made it to the phone, an arm hooked itself around her neck.  Her assailant's hand shot up to cover her mouth, causing Allison's scream to come forth as a muffled cry.  The cold steel of a gun muzzle was jammed against her temple.  The person holding her lifted her off the ground and turned both their bodies around.

 

            A second person stepped in the room.  The door was shut and relocked.  A long knife with a sharp, thin blade was stuck under Allison's chin.

 

            "You do what I tell you to, bitch, or I'll slice you layer by layer until I hit bone.  You got it?"

            Allison's eyes widened at the sight of the gleaming blade.  Sweat broke out on her forehead, and her heart raced so hard she thought it would climb her throat in an effort to escape. 

 

The knife pricked the bottom of Allison's chin.  She cried out at the pain, but because of the hand still covering her mouth the sound went unheard.

 

            The bloodstained blade was held up for Allison to see.  "I said, got it?"

 

            Allison swallowed hard and nodded her head.

 

            "Listen to me then, and listen good.  We're going to let you loose, but one wrong move and we'll blow your fucking brains out.  Understood?"

 

            Again, Allison nodded.

 

            "Good.  And here's a little something you're going to need.  Think of them as your cue cards." 

 

            Allison was handed three index cards with typewritten dialog on them. 

 

            "You follow the script and you won't get hurt.  You don't follow the script, and you will get hurt.  It's as easy as that."  The person holding Allison was told to release her.  She was shoved toward the coffee table by the knife wielding assailant.  "Now get your scrawny ass over to that phone and make a call for me."

 

            It came as no surprise to the terrified Allison when the phone number she was told to dial turned out to be A.J. Simon's.          

               

Chapter 30

 

            Lauren had just entered the house and released Toby from the confinement of the leash when the phone rang.  She grabbed for it, picking it up seconds before the answering machine clicked on.  

 

            "Hello."

            "Lauren, hello.  This is Allison Baker."

 

            "Allison!  Hi!  I thought you were vacationing at Mr. Andrew's estate this weekend."

 

            "I was there earlier in the week, but Mr. Andrews wanted me to rush right back and get these papers to you."

 

            "That wasn't necessary.  It could have waited until your vacation was over."

 

            Lauren thought she detected a nervous tremor behind Allison's laugh.  "When you work for Mr. Andrews, you do what he wants when he wants it.  And speaking of that, he wants me to meet with you as soon as possible to go over the contract.  He made some amendments to it that will, of course, need your approval."

 

            Lauren couldn't imagine what amendments the man could have made to their paperwork, but she knew the rich were fickle, and had long ago learned to handle such people with great diplomacy.

 

            "That's fine, Allison.  We can meet on Monday morning if you'd like.  Will ten o'clock work for you?"

 

            "I'm...I'm afraid not.  I'm scheduled to fly out tomorrow morning on another trip for Mr. Andrews.  I realize it's Saturday night, and I do apologize for interrupting your evening, but would it be possible for us to meet?"

            "Now?  Tonight, you mean?"

            "Yes.  The business end of our meeting shouldn't take more than thirty minutes.  I'd like to treat you and your husband...A.J., is it?"

 

            "