“I’m serious, Lauren. No offense, but you look awful.”
She pulled an apple from the produce drawer and closed the refrigerator. “Thanks for the assessment. And your concern. But right now, all I care about is finding Michael. Did you book us flights?”
“Like you asked. We leave Sacramento in about three hours.”
“Then we’d better get going. I’m gonna grab a quick shower, change into some real clothes, and pack a suitcase. We can be out the door in twenty minutes.”
Lauren headed into her bedroom and saw the container of Xanax on the night table. She picked up the bottle, placed it on the bed to take with her when she packed, then stopped. “No,” she said, tossing the pills into the drawer. She walked into the bathroom and started the shower.
After throwing on a pair of jeans and a sweater top, she packed her suitcase and gave Bradley a condensed version of what had transpired at the cabin, then suggested the plan of action she had devised during her two-hour drive home. With Bradley’s assistance, they would drop Tucker at Carla Mae’s house, then leave the Barracuda in the parking lot of the sheriff’s department. Once airborne, Bradley would call Deputy Vork and recount the details of the kidnapping, escape, and self-defense shooting of the man Lauren knew only as Cody.
Although there would be a furor over her departure from the state until she could be questioned and cleared of all wrongdoing, Lauren felt it would be best to take care of business first and not take a chance on a lengthy detention by the sheriff. Although he had reservations, Bradley reluctantly agreed with her assessment. Due to the secluded location of the house and cabin where she had been held, it could take days before anyone found the dead body. By then, hopefully, she would be back in town.
Once they were on U.S. 50 and headed for the airport, Bradley directed Lauren to his glove compartment. “Pull out the fax. Take a good, hard look at the photo.”
Lauren unfolded the paper and looked at the dark, grainy picture in the late-afternoon light. “Who is this?”
“You mean who was it. Special Agent Harper Payne.”
Eyebrows furrowed, she turned to Bradley. “My God, he does look like Michael.”
“Your husband is a hero of sorts in FBI circles. He made headlines all over the country. Hell, all over the world. Seven years ago Payne went undercover to gather evidence against Anthony Scarponi — or Hung Jin, as he called himself. Scarponi was one of the most violent and dangerous assassins in history. And one of the most successful. After testifying against him, Payne had to go into witness protection.”
Lauren felt the blood drain from her face. “He was telling the truth.”
“Who was?”
“Hung Jin, he said Michael was a killer, that he worked for him.” She turned to Bradley. “Is this true, Nick? Was Michael a — a hit man?”
Bradley glanced at Lauren, then turned his attention back to the road. “After you called me I checked in with a buddy of mine at the FBI. The trial transcript is sealed, as is the case file. But he did tell me that Michael got some plastic surgery and went into hiding after the trial.”
“But I’d know, wouldn’t I? I mean, I’d know if he was in witness protection.”
Bradley shrugged. “Maybe. Probably. Unless he didn’t stay in the program.”
Lauren was silent, trying to think it all through. She looked down at the picture, then shook her head. The faxed photo was of poor quality, but the resemblance was obvious.
“You said his name was Anthony Scarponi.”
Bradley nodded. “Hung Jin is the name he used when he was captured. He claimed to be of Asian lineage. They all thought it was an attempt at an insanity defense.”
“That wouldn’t be too far from the truth.” She sighed and rested her head against the window. She felt fatigued, and the strain of the car ride drained her further. The confirmation that her husband may have killed people — whether while undercover or not — made her feel even worse. “So how does all this work into Michael’s disappearance?”
“The government wanted Michael to testify again in a new trial against Scarponi. I’m guessing Scarponi figured that his way out of this mess was to eliminate Michael, prevent him from testifying. Michael must have discovered that Scarponi was close to finding him, and he fled… the cross-country ski trip was a cover, a fabrication so he could get away. If that’s the case, he did it to protect you.”
“Michael would’ve told me. He wouldn’t have just left me.”
“If he thought your life was in danger? I think he would have. Look at it this way. If you knew the truth and he told you he was leaving, you’d either try to stop him, or you’d want to go with him.”
Lauren closed her eyes. Although she did not want it to be true, she could not argue with Bradley’s reasoning. In fact, she knew he was correct on all counts. If so, the only thing that might have saved her from never seeing Michael again was a chance car accident that left him without his memory. Ironically, his amnesia may have served to bring them back together. With that thought, exhaustion took over, and she drifted off to sleep.
Lauren awoke groggy and fatigued exactly an hour later, as Bradley was parking the car in the long-term lot at Sacramento International. Even though she was still in a partial daze and moving slowly, they managed to check the Colt through and make it onto the plane with twenty minutes to spare.
After fastening her seat belt, Lauren rested her head back and sighed deeply. As she lay there, she remembered what Bradley had told her about Michael’s association with Scarponi. How could he have killed? Even if it was part of his job to infiltrate Scarponi’s organization… how could he have done that? Michael was such a gentle man, such a good soul. Or so she thought. That he was not the man she thought she had fallen in love with weighed heavily on her. Though the physical pain of Scarponi’s torture sessions was now past her, an end to the emotional pain seemed out of reach.
The prospect of finding Michael, of once again lying in his arms, was what she had been longing for. It was what had kept her alive when others might have given up. Now, she was unsure if that was what she really wanted. After all she had just learned, she did not know what to do, what to feel… even what to say when she did finally find him.
As their plane roared into the air, daylight was giving way to dusk under intense cloud cover. Fifteen minutes later, the Boeing 737 had leveled off. Lauren pulled out a Walkman to help get her through the flight. “Agoraphobia,” she said to Bradley. “Loud music helps.”
“Anything I can do?”
“It’s a lot better than it used to be. Most of the time I can manage. But the last couple of days have been quite a test for me.” A smile broke out across her lips. “In more ways than one.” She reclined her seat back as far as it would go, then let out a pained groan.
“You okay?”
“Everything hurts.”
“You want some aspirin? I’m sure they’ve got something on board.”
Lauren nodded and Bradley touched the flight attendant call button. A few minutes later, a man was handing her a cup of water and two Motrin. She downed the pills and laid her head back.
“I’m not one to give in to pain,” she said, turning her head and watching as the fading orange sun spread its expansive reach across the horizon and hung there. On the opposite side of the plane, the sky had already turned a sapphire blue.
“I believe that.”
“My daddy used to swing me in our hammock behind the house on nights like this,” Lauren said, staring off at the dark sky.
“A father and his daughter share a very special relationship.”
“Do you have any children?”
Bradley was looking off at the night sky as the swoosh of the plane’s skin brushing through the wind currents hissed in the background. “I lost the only child I had.”