In Plain Sight
Rose, By Any Other Name
Chapter 1
Sixteen and a Half Months Ago "There's a reason why you were ordered to see her. You're supposed to tell her these things. She can help," Marshall Mann insisted as he exited the elevator with his partner.
Mary Shannon swiped her identification card through the electronic reader and the lock released. Pulling the gate open, she retorted, "You seem to be the only person in my life who has yet to resign himself to reality. What makes you think a bureaucrat head shrinker is in any position to help someone as screwed up as me?"
"Oh, I don't know. Maybe her years of professional training, as well as field work dealing with numerous other law enforcement agents involved in traumatic incidents. Shelly Finkel has an excellent track record."
The gate swung closed behind them. "Yeah, well, sharing every detail of my life is not something I have the time or patience for. In order to avoid being put on administrative leave I'm forced to keep in touch with her once a week. That's enough."
Marshall made his way around his desk and said, "Telling her you're having nightmares isn't sharing every detail of your life. Nightmares are a sign of something else going on. It's precisely the sort of thing she's equipped to help you through."
With a dismissive wave of her hand, she responded, "Nightmares, shmightmares. We're talking about dreams here. What's the big deal?"
Before Marshall could respond, Stan McQueen rapped on his glass office wall, diverting their attention. Their boss motioned them to him, all the while continuing his phone conversation. As the two entered the office, he addressed the caller.
"We'll have everything ready. I'll contact you in a few hours once they've arrived." Replacing the receiver, he turned his attention to his marshals. "Good morning. That was U.S. Attorney David McArthur from Pennsylvania. We have a case. Orin Nash, a marshal out of the Philadelphia office, is delivering the witness. They've already taken off and should be arriving in about five hours. You'll need to have a package ready by then. I'm assigning her to you, Mary."
"What's the scoop?" she queried, plopping down in front of his desk.
Taking his own chair, Stan read off of a notepad, "Rose Stanton Lawrence, 33, born and raised in Harrisburg, Pennsylvania. The day before yesterday, two members of a Guatemalan drug cartel sprayed the car she was riding in with an automatic weapon. Her husband, James Andrew Lawrence, was driving. He and their 8 year old son, Silas, were killed. Thanks to the help of a concerned citizen with a cell phone who followed the shooters, the men were apprehended within the hour and Rose was able to pick them out of a line-up. The Feds have been trying for years to put away the head honchos of this cartel. They feel this case gives them a good shot at doing that. The witness who was in the car behind the Lawrence's is being relocated as well, along with his family. The Feds are excited about the case but the members of this cartel are particularly ruthless. In the past, live witnesses to their long string of crimes have been impossible to find and there's a whole trail of dead ones."
"What brought on the attack?" Marshall questioned.
"James Lawrence worked in security at Harrisburg International Airport. These cartels are targeting smaller airports where the security isn't as stringent to bring their drugs into the country, then trucking them to major cities for distribution. James got involved passing marked bags containing drugs through checkpoints, but eventually decided that the life wasn't for him. The Guatemalans didn't take too kindly to his wanting out and decided that he had outlived his usefulness."
"What took so long for the U.S. Attorney to move on this?" Mary asked. "Why didn't they put Rose on a plane right away?"
"Her son was killed instantly but her husband was in surgery for several hours and finally died sometime last night. The Feds kept her under guard at the hospital so she could be with him, and then she was taken to her house by Nash early this morning to pack after he passed away. She was put on a flight immediately afterwards."
"How involved was she in her husband's sideline?"
"According to McArthur, not at all. She only found out what her husband was doing a week ago. She threatened to take their son and disappear if he didn't get out, and tried to talk him into going to the authorities. James thought he could go it alone, that if he promised not to tell what he knew, the cartel wouldn't bother him. As we all know, that seldom works out," Stan noted dryly. "That's all I know about the situation. Since AUSA didn't know until late last night that they had only one witness to relocate instead of two, this is a rush job. I told McArthur I'd put my best agents on it, that if anyone could whip up an identity on short notice, it was you two."
"Aw, Stan. You're going to make me blush," Mary quipped, giving her boss a feigned look of embarrassment.
"Just don't make a liar of me," he warned.
"We won't," Marshall promised. "Did she pick a name?"
"McArthur said she wasn't in any shape to do that. She's still understandably in shock. He did say that she did not want to keep her first name or initial, and didn't care one way or the other about her last name, so the two of you get to create a new identity from the ground up. Eleanor had an errand to run but she should be back within the hour if you need any help from her."
Mary shook her head and noted sarcastically, "I think we can handle a simple identification package without Eleanor's super powers. We have done this a time or two before."
"Then why don't you put your money where your mouth is and get at it," her boss suggested pointedly.
***"What about Amy?" Mary queried, peering at her computer monitor.
Looking over her shoulder, Marshall argued, "I don't like Amy. It sounds too … wimpy. How about Jessica? It's feminine, yet with a touch of spiritedness."
"She isn't a race horse," Mary pointed out wryly.
"I like the name. And we haven't had a Jessica."
"Okay, Jessica it is," she acquiesced. "Last name?"
"Hmmm … How about Lawson? That's similar to Lawrence."
She quickly typed the name on her keyboard, then studied the screen. Slowly shaking her head, she noted, "Lawson won't work. There's another relocated witness from the east coast whose original last name was Lawson. Pick again."
"Jessica … Larson," he suggested. "That sounds good together."
After typing again, she consulted the screen and reported, "No Larson in the program in Albuquerque. Jessica Larson it is. I'll get started on the birth certificate."
"And I'll go try to round up an apartment for her," Marshall decided, turning toward his own desk.
"Better make it furnished," she advised. "We certainly aren't going to have time to visit Rent-A-Center."
***"I just finished all the copies," Eleanor noted, handing a stack of paperwork to her boss. "Hot off the press."
Stan gathered the papers into a file and handed it to Mary. "Nash brought Rose in a few minutes ago when you two were out grabbing a bite. They're waiting in the conference room."
Mary flipped absent-mindedly through the packet of papers and asked, "How does she seem?"
"Quiet," Stan answered. "She still looks pretty shaken. Nash brought us a copy of the recording from the police cruiser taken at the accident scene, as well as Rose's initial interview. AUSA has the only other copy. They want this one to stay with her file."
"I'll take care of that," Eleanor offered.
"Anything else we should know?" Marshall questioned.
"Nope," Stan responded. "I already called McArthur to let him know they arrived safely, so it looks like everything's covered."
Mary smacked the file of paperwork against Marshall's chest. "Let's do this."
Seconds later, they entered the conference room to find the pair sitting at the table. Nash was turned side-ways in his chair, elbows resting on his knees as he leaned close to the woman, talking quietly to her. The woman sat with her hands in her lap, staring vacantly at the table, nodding as she listened. They both looked up at the marshals' entrance.
"I'm Inspector Mary Shepherd and this is my partner, Inspector Marshall Mann," she announced, they having decided beforehand that it wasn't necessary for both of them to use their aliases.
The agent, tall with blond hair and dark eyes, stood and shook hands with each in turn. "I'm Orin Nash." Indicating the woman, he added, "And this is our witness."
Mary nodded to her. "Hello, Rose. Welcome to Albuquerque."
The woman looked up at her with solemn green eyes and insisted quietly, "My name isn't Rose."
Looking from her to Nash in confusion, Mary said, "I'm sorry. There must've been some sort of miscommunication." Addressing the woman, she asked, "What is your name?"
"I thought that's why I was here," she replied, "so that you could tell me."
Mary's expression grew amused and she gave the woman a half smile. "Right."
Nash stood up and noted, "This is where I bow out." Placing a hand on the shoulder of the woman beside him, he said, "The U.S. Attorney will be in touch with the marshals here when he has a trial date for you."
"Thank you, for all of your help and your kindness. It really was appreciated," the woman told him sincerely.
"You're welcome. Take care." Nodding to the other two, he added, "It was nice to meet you. If there's anything I can help with, give me a call."
"We will," Mary assured him. "Have a safe trip back."
Once he had exited, Marshall closed the conference room door and joined Mary as she took a chair near the woman.
Pulling a sheet from her packet, Mary placed it in front of the woman. "Your new name is Jessica Larson. You were born in Portland, Oregon and just moved to New Mexico. You can make up whatever story you'd like to explain the move, as long you don't use the name of anyone from your former life as a reference point. This is the documentation you'll need to get a New Mexico driver's license." Watching her as she scanned the paperwork handed to her, Mary added, "As I think was explained to you earlier, we normally allow witnesses entering the program to choose their own new names. Since we were short on time, we came up with one for you. If you have something else in mind, though, we can redraw the documentation and have it ready for you to sign tomorrow."
"I'm fine with what you've chosen."
"All right." Pulling out a thick booklet, she placed it on the table. "This is known as the WITSec memorandum of understanding. We'll go over it together and answer any questions you might have. Before we do that, can we get anything for you? Something to drink or eat?"
"No, nothing, thank you," she responded.
"Let's get started then," Mary suggested with a slight smile.
***Jessica Larson tiredly rubbed the back of her neck under her short, dark curls as Mary asked, "Do you have any questions about anything we've covered?"
Shaking her head, she replied, "No, it all seems pretty clear."
"Then these are the last few pages to sign," Mary indicated, handing her several documents. "Do you have any other family members who depend on you, aging parents for example?"
"No, I don't. My father died a little over two years ago and my mother passed away seven months later. I had a sister but she was killed in an auto accident years ago. There are several aunts and uncles, quite a few cousins – no one I'm close to, though. My husband has several siblings so his parents will be cared for." She laid down the pen and looked away, amending softly, "My husband had several siblings."
Mary reached out and placed a hand on her forearm sympathetically. "I know there's a lot to process and get used to, but we're here to help you through it."
"I appreciate that," Jessica nodded.
"I realize we've already gone over this, but it bears repeating: You understand that you can't contact anyone from your former life, even to let them know you're all right? No letters, no phone calls, no e-mails, no text or instant messages."
"I understand."
"What kind of work did you do in Harrisburg?"
"I've been a real estate agent for a little over three years."
"And are you overly attached to that profession?"
"Not particularly. The market hasn't been great lately."
"Then how would you like to try your hand at catering?" At Jessica's questioning look, Mary explained, "I have a friend, Blanche, who owns a catering business. I gave her a call this afternoon and she's agreed to hire you. She can be a bit cantankerous, but she's fair and she's known me long enough not to ask any questions."
"Don't lie to her, Mare," Marshall corrected as he entered and placed water bottles on the conference table. "Describing Blanche as 'cantankerous' is more than an understatement. The woman is downright mean."
"She's not that bad," Mary argued. "You just have to know how to handle her."
"And how is that?" he queried. "With a whip and a chair?"
Turning back to Jessica, she waved him off and said, "Don't listen to him. You'll do fine."
"When do I start?"
"I told Blanche I'd bring you by in a few days. When you feel ready, you can let me know. WITSec will pay your rent for the first six months to a year, until you sell your home in Harrisburg and get on your feet financially. We know you've had a shock, so if you need some time, don't hesitate to take it."
"All right," she acknowledged.
Mary gathered the paperwork and stood up. "Let's go get you settled into your new apartment."
***"I asked the manager for a third story unit because I thought you might feel safer that way," Marshall explained.
"Thank you, that was thoughtful." Jessica slowly surveyed the surroundings. "It's been a long time since I lived in an apartment."
"It will take some getting used to. The furniture came with it but the manager said he'd take out anything you want to replace with your own stuff. Your belongings from Harrisburg will be shipped to our warehouse. We'll contact you when everything arrives."
"I left everything to be sold with the house. I brought all I wanted with me."
"Okay," he acknowledged slowly. Looking at her thoughtfully, he asked, "Have you had anything to eat all day?"
"No. I haven't had much of an appetite," she admitted.
"You should let us take you to dinner. You'll feel a lot better once you've had a decent meal," he noted.
Mary joined them in the middle of the small living room. "Yeah, and we can drive you around a little so you can become familiar with the neighborhood."
Jessica sighed and shook her head. "Honestly, I don't think I can manage it. I haven't slept for three days so I'd probably fall asleep on you half way through dinner. If you don't mind, I'll just make something here with the things I picked up at the market when we stopped. Can I take a raincheck for dinner?"
"Of course," Mary assured her, reaching to touch her shoulder, "whenever you're up to it. I programmed both of our numbers into the cell phone I left on the kitchen counter for you. Keep it with you at all times, and if you need anything at all, day or night, just call. Get some rest and we'll check in with you tomorrow."
"Thank you for all you both did today. I truly appreciate the help."
Giving her a smile, Mary said, "That's what we're here for."
"Get some sleep," Marshall advised as he opened the door for his partner.
"I will. Thanks," Jessica replied.
On their way down the stairs, Mary observed, "No demands, no requests, no questions, no complaints. It's a good thing all my cases aren't this easy, otherwise I'd have to shoot myself in the foot out of sheer boredom."
"She's still in shock. She hasn't had time to absorb everything that's happened," Marshall pointed out. "She'll have questions eventually."
"I suppose you're right. I just wish she would've let us take her to dinner. I feel like we're abandoning her way too soon."
He slipped his hand into his pocket for the keys to the government-owned SUV parked a short distance away. "We're not abandoning her. She seemed like she wanted some time alone. I'm sure she hasn't had even a minute of that since the accident." Looking down at his palm, he added, "Damn! I knew I forget something. Here's the extra key to her apartment."
"You can run it back up to her. I don't feel like climbing three flights of stairs again."
"Here." He tossed the truck keys to her when she turned around, several steps below him, and she caught them easily. "I'll be right back."
Moments later, he returned and slowly climbed into the driver's seat, then handed the single key to his partner. "You keep up with this. You can give it to her tomorrow."
Accepting the key, she gave him a curious look. "Didn't she answer the door?"
"I didn't knock," he admitted hesitantly.
"Why not?"
"I heard her crying through the door," he responded quietly. Shrugging, he amended, "Actually, sobbing uncontrollably would be a better description."
"Aw, damn!" Mary exclaimed. "I knew we were leaving too soon. You think we should go back?"
"She has to cry sometime, Mare," he noted as he fired the ignition and began backing out. "It's part of the process. She can't begin healing until she grieves. Being with her isn't going to take away her pain. Only time will do that."
Letting her head thump against the backrest, she agreed, "I understand that. I just hate to think of her all alone in a strange place, crying her eyes out for her dead child and scumbag husband. No one deserves that."
"No, they don't," he concurred, pulling out onto the street. "We'll stop by tomorrow and see how she's doing. Hopefully she'll feel better after a good night's sleep."
***"Are you sure that's what you want to do?" Mary asked, looking over her shoulder in the direction of the backseat. "This is only your third day here."
"I can't continue to sit in that apartment alone," Jessica admitted quietly. "Working will keep my mind off of … everything. The sooner I start, the better."
"Well I think it's safe to say that Blanche was happy to be getting such an eager employee. I'm sure she'll have plenty of work lined up for you by tomorrow."
"And you don't know how much it takes to make Blanche happy," Marshall interjected. "For your sake I hope it lasts."
"What exactly do you have against Blanche?" Mary questioned pointedly. "She's never done anything to deserve your intense dislike."
"Every time she sees me, she refers to me as your 'lanky boyfriend', despite my setting her straight numerous times. She does it on purpose, just to irritate me. Tell me what I ever did to her to deserve that!" he demanded.
"Don't be so sensitive. If you didn't make such a fuss it wouldn't be fun for her anymore and she'd drop it. You're such a baby sometimes."
"Okay, okay, no name calling in front of the guest," Marshall scolded. Glancing in the rearview mirror, he asked, "Is there anywhere else you'd like to go? We're at your disposal this afternoon, Jess, so feel free to take advantage."
"You've both already done so much," she replied. "And I think I have everything I need. I walked around the neighborhood yesterday and found the grocery store you told me about. I also found a pawn shop that has a nice bike I'm thinking of buying. Albuquerque seems pretty bike-friendly and I'd like to start riding whenever possible, instead of driving everywhere."
"Well, that's certainly ambitious," Mary noted. "I know you don't have a car yet, but we can take you to the DMV if you'd like to get your driver's license for identification purposes."
"That's all right. I'll take care of it on my own. Thanks for the offer, though."
"We're supposed to be helping you adjust," Marshall pointed out. "You have to let us do something."
"I'm sorry," she replied. "I'm used to doing things on my own. But if anything comes up that I do need help with, I promise I'll let you know."
"You'd better," Mary warned. "Otherwise, we're going to have to take up golf or something to fill our afternoons."
Eleven and a Half Months Ago "I hate over-night trips," Mary complained, rubbing her neck. "I never sleep well in strange beds."
Marshall stretched and heard a satisfying popping sound come from the middle of his back. "You realize you left yourself wide open to all sorts of sundry comments about you and strange beds." At her warning look, he held up his hand. "Don't worry. I'm too tired to even form a coherent thought at the moment."
She dropped her keys on her desk and picked up her phone messages. "There's a lot of that going around."
Glancing around the office, Marshall noted, "Stan and Eleanor must be at lunch."
"Or off doing God knows what," Mary muttered. Frowning, she studied her last message curiously, then quickly shuffled back through the others. "I have two messages from Jessica Larson, both from today."
"Is something wrong?" he asked.
"I don't think so. Neither is marked 'urgent'. And there's a different phone number on each." Pulling her Blackberry from its holder on her belt, she quickly scrolled through her contact list. "One of the numbers is from the cell we gave her. The other is … the number for Blanche's catering company."
"Maybe she finally wants to talk about the accident. You've been trying to get her to do that for the five months she's been here."
"Yeah, and she's politely ducked every attempt. I'm going to call her back."
"And I'm going to go grab a real cup of coffee from the little shop around the corner. I could use a good jolt of caffeine. Want some?"
"Do I ever," she replied. Turning her attention to her phone, she responded to the recorded message, "Jessica, this is Mary Shepherd. I'm sorry I missed your earlier calls but I just got back into town. Give me a call as soon as you can." Scrolling down again, she tried the second number. After a few seconds, she smiled. "Blanche? This is Mary Shepherd. How are you?"
"Mary! I haven't heard from you in ages! I'm doing fine, Girl. How are you?"
"Other than swamped with work, I'm doing well. I have a message that Jessica Larson called. Is she around by any chance?"
"No, Honey, she's at a meeting. Did you try her cell?"
"I did, but she didn't answer."
"She leaves her phone in the van when she's with a client. If you leave her a message, she'll call you back first chance she gets. She's good about that."
Mary sat back in her chair. "How is she doing? Is everything working out with her?"
"You could say that," the older woman confirmed with a chuckle. "She's buying the business from me."
"What? Are you kidding?" Mary exclaimed. "When did all this happen?"
"She brought me a proposal about a month ago. I had all but turned over the day-to-day operation to her anyway and had been mulling over the idea of retiring, so it was a good move for us both. She made a generous offer to buy me out and wants me to stay on as a consultant. I get a nice salary for basically doing nothing more than answering a phone call every now and then, and she gets to keep the company name."
Huffing out a breath, Mary noted, "Well this is certainly a surprise. It sounds like the two of you hit it off pretty well."
"That we did. She's tripled my business in the few months she's been here. I've never seen anyone work so hard. She's great with the clients, the staff is crazy about her, and I'd adopt her if she'd let me. I can't thank you enough for sending her to me."
"It was my pleasure. I'm just surprised about your news. It's difficult to imagine you being retired. What are you going to do with all of your free time?"
"I'm going to do some traveling, head to Florida to visit my son, take a cruise or two – you know, the usual things a lady of leisure does these days."
"Well, if you ever need a traveling companion, you have my number. Being a lady of leisure sounds unbelievably good right now."
Blanche let out a laugh. "I'll keep that in mind, Hon. But I'd have to insist that you bring that lanky partner of yours along. Things just wouldn't be the same without having him around to tease."
"I'll tell him you said that. Keep in touch, Blanche. I want to hear all about your world travels."
"I will, Mary. You take care, now."
Marshall returned moments later to find Mary sitting at her desk, staring into space, lost in thought. Handing her a coffee cup, he asked, "Did you get in touch with Jess?"
Shaking her head, partly to clear it, she replied, "No, not yet. I left her a message. I did speak to Blanche, though. She had some surprising news."
He took a seat on the corner of her desk. "Oh? What's that?"
"She's selling her catering business to Jessica."
His eyebrows arched. "Seriously? How did that happen?"
"Blanche said she was thinking of retiring and Jess was practically running the business anyway, so it just made sense. She also said her business has tripled since Jess came to work for her."
With a nod, he said, "Good for her. It sounds like she's throwing herself into her work as a means of coping."
"I'll say. To go from part-time employee to owning the business in a few months is quite an accomplishment. I wonder if she does windows, too."
"She's a strong woman. I think you've been worried about her for nothing."
"It's my job to worry and I happen to be very good at it," Mary retorted. "Being successful in business doesn't mean she's successfully dealt with her emotional issues. We've both been doing this long enough to know that if she doesn't deal with it, her anger at her husband, at the death of their son, and at being in this situation, is just going to eat at her. She only has the two of us to confide in, Marshall. Until she does, I'm going to keep worrying, if that's all right with you." With a shrug she added, "Besides, you know I have a soft spot for the truly innocent ones."
***"Sorry for the game of telephone tag, Mary. I've hardly had a moment to even take a breath today. How was your trip?"
"Uneventful, as hoped for," she replied into her phone. "I spoke with Blanche a little while ago and I understand congratulations are in order. She told me the good news."
"Isn't it crazy? Who would've thought? After I received the check for the proceeds from the sale of the house in Harrisburg, things just sort of fell into place, though. I think it's a good decision," Jessica acknowledged. "But that's not my only news."
"Oh? Scaling Mount Everest next on your to-do list?"
"I'll probably hold off on that for a while," she pointed out with a smile in her voice. "And my news isn't exactly up to 'scaling' status. I'm only buying a house."
"Really? That's great! When do you close?"
"In a few weeks, if everything goes well. I'm already pre-qualified for a loan. Which brings me to the reason I called in the first place: I have everything the mortgage company has asked for except a 2008 tax return. I only expected them to ask for 2009 financial statements, and they didn't tell me until yesterday that they needed it. I figured you were the person to help me with that."
Mary nodded. "I can dummy up something for you. How soon do you need it?"
"I'm meeting the real estate agent at the house tomorrow around 1:00 to sign the final contract and deliver the rest of the requested paperwork. I'll tell him I need a few days, that my files are in storage, to give you some time. Will the middle of next week work for you?"
"Actually, tomorrow isn't a problem," Mary assured her. "Fake forms are a lot easier to supply than the real thing. I can get them to you before your meeting. Where and when would you like to get together?"
"Well … in that case … if you and Marshall want to meet me at the house a little while before my agent gets there, I could give you the grand tour and bring you lunch as a way of saying thanks. I've been trying out some new recipes for work. The staff has already certified them as being client-worthy, but I could use some outside input if you two would care to provide a second opinion."
"Free lunch, huh? I suppose we could force ourselves. Send me an e-mail or text with all the particulars, including a copy of some of your 2009 pay stubs so that I have some income guidelines to work with, and I'll check to make sure Marshall is available."
"You'll have the info within the hour. See you tomorrow."
***"Where exactly is this house she's buying?" Marshall asked as he exited the parking garage.
"According to MapQuest, way the hell out in the boonies," Mary replied from the passenger seat. "It's practically in the next county. I have no idea why anyone would want to live out there."
"Some people actually appreciate wide-open spaces and peace and quiet," he pointed out.
"Well I hope she appreciates coyotes howling and a long commute as well. When I said it was way the hell out, I meant it. And if you don't step on it, we're going to be late."
***A little under an hour later, Mary pointed to a road ahead of them. "I think that's where we turn. The house should be about a quarter-mile from the highway."
Within minutes, Marshall pulled the SUV into a gravel drive-way.
"Are you sure this is it?" he asked, peering at the dilapidated house in front of them, paint peeling and overgrown with shrubs. "This place is a wreck!"
"This is the address she sent me and that's the catering van parked ahead." Shaking her head, she said, "She must intend to tear it down and have a new one built. This house doesn't seem salvageable."
As they were climbing out of the truck, Jessica came out on the front porch to meet them, giving them a smile. "You found it. I was beginning to worry that you had gotten lost."
"You didn't tell me it was practically in Texas," Mary quipped, returning the smile.
With a laugh, Jessica jumped off of the porch to give her a hug. "It is pretty far out of town," she acknowledged. Looking up at Marshall with a bit more reserve, she reached out to lightly touch his arm. "How are you, Marshall? It's been a while since I've seen you."
"I'm good," he nodded. Looking at her curiously, he noted, "You've let your hair grow out. It looks nice."
Putting a hand to her head self-consciously, she replied shyly, "Thank you. I thought it was time for a change." Leading the way, she added, "Come on in and I'll show you around. Watch the steps, though, some of them are rotted. That's the first thing on my list to repair once I close."
From behind her, Mary gave her partner a skeptical look, then cautiously followed. Once inside the door, she stopped and removed her sunglasses. "Wow. This place needs some serious work, Jess. Are you sure you know what you're getting yourself into?"
"Oh, don't let the way it looks now fool you. This house is great," she insisted. "Except for the front porch and steps, it's really sound. With a little work and some paint, it's going to be spectacular. It's exactly what I've been looking for."
Trying to think of something encouraging to say, Marshall studied the ceiling and noted, "It has some nice exposed beams."
"And look at the crown molding and bead board on the walls," Jessica pointed out excitedly. "There are also solid oak hardwoods under the linoleum. I pulled some of the old vinyl up in the kitchen and bathrooms and didn't see even one water stain. I shouldn't have any problem at all restoring the original floors."
"Do you know anything about renovations?" Mary asked, stepping around a pile of trash to look out of a grimy window. "I just got an estimate on some minor repairs that my house needs and, believe me, it's going to cost a fortune to fix this place up."
"I've actually been part of a couple of renovations in the past, and I'll do most of the work here myself. There are only a few things I'll have to hire someone to help with." Motioning to them, she said, "Come on. I'll show you the rest of the house, then we can sit outside and eat."
***"I'm so full I can barely move," Mary groaned, leaning back in her seat. "Wasn't the honey-lime dressing on the fruit salad amazing?"
"Everything was amazing. It isn't difficult to see why the business is doing so well."
"Taking on a business and a major house renovation at the same time is nothing short of madness. I can barely manage to mow the lawn every week."
"I think it would be fun to buy an old house and restore it," Marshall responded. "To take something old and make it look new again would be very satisfying work."
"I'd settle for my not so old house looking new again," Mary grumbled, "thank you Agent O'Connor." Growing thoughtful, she pointed out, "Jessica looks good, don't you think? She seems happy."
"Yes, she does, on both counts. I like her hair longer. It's quite becoming."
"And if I knew bike riding would make me look that toned, I'd trade in my old clunker for a 10-speed in a heartbeat." Looking out of the window, she added, "I'm still not buying her little-miss-sunshine routine, though."
"She seems genuinely happy, Mare. Maybe she's found a way to deal with all that's happened on her own. Some people are able to forgive and move on a lot easier than others."
"How do you forgive something like that?" she questioned, turning to look at him intently. "Her low-life husband was responsible for getting her 8 year old child killed, for Christ's sake. I'm not a mother and even I can understand the kind of rage that would evoke. On top of that, she saw it happen. She has to be experiencing some form of PTSD. No one deals with something of that magnitude without help." Looking out of the window again, she added, "It's always the quiet ones that go off the deep end and shoot up a shopping mall."
After giving her concerns due thought for a moment, he suggested, "Maybe she needs to speak with a professional. She might even feel more comfortable doing so. You should mention it to Shelly Finkel when you talk with her tomorrow."
"I'm not sure I'm ready to do that. You and I are supposed to be her support system. I feel like I'm failing her in some way, not asking the right questions, or approaching it in the right way." She let out a deep sigh. "Or maybe you're right and I'm worried for nothing."
"As a whole, women are much more resilient than men," he pointed out. "They accept and adapt to new situations, even tragedies, a lot better."
"Most of my female witnesses do seem to handle being in the program more easily," she agreed.
"I have a theory about that. I think women are wired to be nurturing and helpful. Their intuition allows them to see a need and fill it, which requires adapting to ever-changing situations. Men are supposed to be decisive and unyielding. They don't take to change as well, which is why they sometimes have difficulty in a program that requires them to change every single aspect about themselves and their lives."
"And maybe it's just that women are used to taking direction and men are used to giving it," Mary noted pointedly. "I've yet to meet the man who doesn't want to be in constant control."
"You can't make that kind of blanket statement about all of us," he argued. "Take me, for example. If I had to be in constant control, you and I wouldn't be partners since we both know that you have the mother-of-all control issues."
"Shut up and drive," she commanded.