Obsession
Disclaimer - Se Prologue
A/N: I'd like to say a special thank-you to everyone who has taken the time to review and support me in this long story. Chapter 36 will be the epilogue.
Chapter 35:
Don jerked awake, eyes wide open with his heart hammering in his chest. He wasn't quite sure what had awakened him, but he lay there trying to slow his breathing. It was a relief to wake up anyway because the dream he was having had just turned into a nightmare. A fine sheen of sweat covered his body and he wiped at his upper lip with a trembling hand. His tee shirt was sticking to his chest and he absently pulled it away from his skin; his thoughts still lost in the dream.
Clad only in tee shirt and boxers, he pulled himself up to a sitting position, dragging one leg out from under the covers as he did so. No more than a second later he irritably tossed the comforter completely aside and sat hunched over in the darkness. He needed to cool off and the comforter was too much to handle at the moment. As his breathing began to slow down the dream came back vividly in his mind.
" It was a dream…right? he nervously thought to himself. No… not a dream but a nightmare! It had to be, because there wasn't anyway it could be true. It just couldn't be.; he refused to accept the alternative. Moonlight filtered through the shades giving him enough light to see around the room. Even without the light he knew where everything was, this was his room at his childhood home…at Charlie's house. He swallowed hard and continued to look around the darkened room, trying to give his heart time to stop racing.
A wave of despair suddenly washed over him and he set both of his feet on the floor and put his head in his hands.
"Please, God, oh, please let it have been a dream." he thought frantically. "Charlie didn't die in the emergency room, he couldn't have, we got there in time, I know we did."
Yet this vision kept playing before his eyes like a video. The doctor, desperately trying to get a heartbeat, the incessant tone of the heart monitor, no heartbeat to break up the sound. The word "clear" being announced by someone, followed immediately by the sound of the defibrillator paddles…once…twice…three times and his brother's brown curls bouncing with each jolt. Then someone announcing the time of death and the heart-wrenching wail from his father, immediately followed by his own voice calling out his brother's name.
It was a dream, he told himself again and all he had to do to prove it was to walk out into the hallway and open his brother's bedroom door. Charlie would be sound asleep in his bed, he could already envision the unruly curls popping out from under the comforter.
So why didn't he move? Don had faced down some of the worst criminals in his line of work but the prospect of going into that room and finding out that his dream was actually a reality scared him more than anything that he had ever faced in his life.
Slowly, he gathered his courage and on shaky legs he walked to his bedroom door and opened it. He leaned weakly against the door frame and stared down the dark hallway at the closed door of his brother's bedroom.
Taking a deep shuddering breath, he pushed himself away from the door and padded his way down the hallway to Charlie's room. He just stood there, silently staring at the closed door for several minutes before finally stretching out his hand to open it. The door knob slipped in his hand and he realized that his palms were all sweaty. Don pulled his hand back and leaned his forehead against the door, closing his eyes, afraid of what he might find when he actually opened it. He gritted his teeth and told himself that he could do this, so he wiped his hand on his tee shirt and took a another shaky breath as he slowly turned the door knob.
The door opened with a slight click which sounded deafening to his ears in the stillness of the night. The room was dark and only the moonlight and the light from the hallway provided any kind of illumination. Don stood framed in the doorway waiting for his eyes to adjust to the dim light. He could see the shape of the bed but the rest of it was enveloped in darkness. Swallowing hard, he moved across the room until he came to the side of the bed.
Don didn't want to wake Charlie, but he had to be sure that is brother was really there. He bent over and quietly patted around the edges of the pillow hoping to touch a stray curl without disturbing him. After a few frantic moments, however, all thoughts of being careful were replaced by a desperate attempt to touch his brother, but his hands continued to feel only cloth.
His breath quickened and his movements became more frenzied. And now in a state of panic he turned around and clicked on the lamp near the bed. Anxiously, he focused on the empty bed and an uncontrollable moan of grief escaped his lips. He sank to his knees on the floor, wrapping his arms around himself in an effort to control the stabbing pain in his heart. Don rocked back and forth as the sobs of grief wracked his body. "It was true…it was true, oh, God, it was true."
Don didn't know how long he had been sitting there, but after a while he heard a voice break through his tormented mind. He felt a hand shake his shoulder and he heard a soft, low voice that sounded hauntingly familiar, a voice telling him that it was going to be all right…..a voice that he thought he had lost forever.
"Donnie, wake up. Your having a nightmare." a pause and a harder shake . "Come on, wake up now."
Don opened his eyes and blinked in amazement at the silhouette sitting on the side of his bed. His bed? How did he get here? No matter, that could wait until later, the most important question now was who was sitting next to him on the bed. The bedroom door was ajar and the dim light from the hallway cast enough light to outline the figure of a man, a man with a head full of curls. He raised himself up on one elbow and blinked through swollen eyes at the profile of his brother. "Charlie?"
Don slowly stretched out his hand and hope flooded his senses. His hand wavered over the apparition, fear and uncertainty creeping into his heart. "If he's not real, he'll disappear if I touch him." and Don didn't want him to vanish, he wanted him to stay. But he had to know for sure, so with a trembling hand he touched the figure's arm to see if it was real.
Flesh met flesh and his hand closed around Charlie's wrist. Overjoyed, he sat up suddenly and embraced his brother with such force that he squeezed a strangled "oomph" from the younger man. "Your really here, I can't believe it." he whispered breathlessly as he held him tightly.
Caught by surprise, Charlie awkwardly patted him on the back, but after a few more minutes he was pushing Don away to catch his breath. "Hey, Don, I can't breathe."
"Oh, ah, sorry." Don apologized . He let him go and then leaned over and switched on the lamp next to the bed. Slightly embarrassed, he scooted backwards until he was sitting with his back against the head board.
"It's alright." Charlie grinned at him. "You okay?"
"Yeah, sure." He said, pulling the comforter up a little higher. "It…ah…was just a nightmare."
Charlie's grin faded and his eyebrows drew together with concern. "That's the second one this week, isn't it?"
Don shrugged his shoulders and looked over at the clock, five a.m. "What are you doing up so early? Did I wake you up?"
Charlie shook his head slightly. "No, I had to take a trip down the hall and I heard you yelling on my way back." he tilted his head to the side and studied his brother's face. "I thought you were going to make an appointment to see Dr. Bradford."
"I am, I just haven't had a chance to do it yet."
Charlie twisted around to get more comfortable, cursing softly to himself as he stretched his leg out in front of him.
Don sat up in alarm with a guilty look on his face. "Did I hurt you….I'm sorry, I didn't mean too."
Startled, Charlie looked up. "No…no you didn't hurt me. I just turned my leg the wrong way, that's all."
The sudden look of relief that crossed Don's face reminded Charlie of something that he had been feeling guilty about and he had been waiting for the right moment to talk to his brother about it. Five o'clock in the morning was probably not the best time but the opportunity presented itself and he took it. A feeling of guilt washed over him and he ducked his head a moment to gather his thoughts.
"Don…look, I owe you an apology." Charlie said as he raised his head to meet his brother's eyes.
Don's brow creased in puzzlement. "An apology? Charlie you didn't do anything." He started to laugh it off until he noticed the serious look on his brother's face. "Okay, tell me what you think you did."
"Do you …." Charlie cleared his throat. "Ah, do you remember the day that Bashere, you know…kidnapped me?"
A scowl crossed Don's features. "Remember? That's not something I'm likely to forget any time soon Buddy."
Charlie lowered his eyes and picked nervously at his tee shirt. "The part I'm talking about is when I was saying good-by to you and what I asked of you." He raised his head and gazed at his brother. "I was wrong to ask that of you….it's just that Basherehad caught me off guard and I wasn't thinking rationally. I hope you can forgive me."
Without hesitation Don answered. "There's nothing to forgive Charlie, in that situation none of us were thinking rationally." he paused and looked down. "Actually, I owe you an apology."
It was Charlie's turn to look puzzled. "I don't understand, you didn't do anything."
Don's eyes reflected the painful memories as he whispered. "I almost killed you Buddy." He cleared his throat and put up a hand to forestall Charlie's objections.
" When I drove out on that runway I was desperate. I just knew if that plane took off, I would never see you again." he shook his head. "I was just hoping to close the distance before the pilot had enough runway to lift off…. and we did…but the idiot took off anyway."
"The pilot didn't want to." Charlie said bitterly. "Bashere made him do it."
"Yeah? Anyway , when the plane went down, I was sure that I had killed you. I'm sorry I put you through that." Don said sadly and raised his head to meet his brother's eyes.
Charlie shook his head slightly and said. "That's what Bashere said just before we went down. He handcuffed himself to me and said that you had killed me." His voice trailed off as he watched Don's expression change to one of regret and he quickly hastened to add. "But I told him that you had set me free." He watched as his brother's sorrowful eyes lit up with hope. "I truly meant that Don, a life as a prisoner is no life, and that's what I would have been if you hadn't stopped that plane. So you see, there's nothing for you to apologize for."
Don breathed a sigh of relief. "We're even then, no apologies necessary. Deal."
"Deal." Charlie said emphatically, returning his smile. He shifted a little and then stood up slowly, leaning heavily on his cane.
"Are you going to stay up?" Don asked.
"No, I'm still a little tired, I think I'll go back to bed for a little while longer. We don't have to leave until this afternoon anyway."
"Are you sure about this? You still look pretty weak Charlie, maybe you should just stay in this afternoon."
"No, I told you that I need to do this Don…please…it's just something that I have to do." Charlie said passionately.
"All right, all right, don't get upset." Don answered raising his hands up to calm him down. "I said I'd take you, and I will."
With a relived sigh Charlie turned to leave the room. "Thanks, see you later bro."
"Good night Charlie." Don said thoughtfully as he watched his brother limp out of the room. Charlie's tee shirt looked baggy on his thin frame. He had lost a lot of weight as a result of the attack and he was still recovering both physically and mentally from the ordeal. Don crossed his arms behind his head as his thoughts turned to the events of the last few weeks.
They had lost him in the ER but Dr. Hernandez had refused to give up and had kept trying even after the others wanted to call time of death. Don shivered, hearing the words echo through his mind.
Charlie had spent a week in the hospital and had been home for only three days. He had lain unconscious for two days while the doctors struggled to learn the extent of his injuries. The main concern had been oxygen deprivation which had resulted from the sheer volume of the blood that his body had lost. There had been so many things to worry about, the oxygen level in his blood had dropped and the carbon monoxide levels had increased. There had been a good chance of respiratory and organ failure, not to mention the fact that brain damage could have occurred. And, as if he needed anything else, there had been the infection from the wound in his side. Stitches took care of the laceration but he had to have the antibiotics given to him intravenously to take care of the infection. Charlie was still on the pill version of the antibiotics and would be for several more weeks.
Don swallowed thickly, all in all, it was a miracle that his brother had survived. He sighed and turned out the light, pulling the covers up over his shoulders. As his head hit the pillow, he realized that Charlie was right, he really was going to have to make an appointment to se Dr. Bradford. He couldn't go on this way, the nightmares were just too vivid. He glanced at the clock and with a groan he tossed the comforter aside and climbed out of bed.
Don was planning to take the afternoon off, but there was a lot of paperwork on his desk to get through this morning and since he was already awake, he figured that he might as well go in early and get a head start on it, besides , he really didn't want to risk another nightmare.
Don felt better after a shower and returned to his room wrapped in a towel. He finished drying off and quickly dressed in jeans and a tee shirt , then grabbed a jacket to dress it up a bit. He retrieved his badge, gun and phone from the nightstand and headed down the hallway.
Charlie's door was still closed but he couldn't stop himself from looking in, the dream still vivid in his mind. The door slipped open without a sound and he peaked around it to take a look. Charlie was lying on his side with the covers pulled up almost over his head, errant curls sticking out everywhere. Don smiled in relief and quietly backed out of the room but before he could close the door, Charlie raised his head and caught his eye.
"You and Dad have got to stop doing that." he said in an amused voice.
Don shrugged and feigned innocence. "What? I thought I heard a noise or something….that's all."
Charlie rolled his eyes. "Yeah, sure. You guys need to come up with different stories, that's exactly what Dad said a few minutes ago."
"Dad beat me to it huh?'
"Yep." Charlie grinned . "And as soon as I'm better, Amita will probably be keeping me company so I may have to start locking my door." Still smiling, he snuggled further under the covers.
Don grinned back, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Trust me bro, when that happens you won't have to worry about us checking up on you. See you later, I'll be back in time for lunch."
But Charlie had already drifted back to sleep so Don quietly closed the door. His steps quickened and more lighthearted than he had felt in weeks he headed down the staircase.
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Don sipped at his coffee and turned over the next page of the report. He had turned command over to Megan at the hospital and put in for leave so that he could remain with his Dad and Charlie. As a result of that he now had over a week's worth of paperwork to review.
"What time did you get in?"
He glanced up at Megan's words. "I'm leaving at noon today so I needed to come in early and start on this." he said waving at the various stacks of paperwork on his desk.
"Oh, the woes of being the SAC." Megan teased as she headed for her desk.
Don grinned at her. "Ha, ha."
She returned his grin and after putting her things away came over to stand beside his desk. Her voice sobered up as she asked. "How's Charlie doing?"
The agent leaned back in his chair and met her gaze. "He's getting better, at least physically, emotionally he has some issues to deal with."
Megan sat down on the corner of his desk. "That's understandable, an ordeal like that is going to take some time to get over. You know, if he needs to talk to someone about it, besides you and your father I mean, I'd be happy to help out or I could recommend someone."
"Thanks, Megan. I'll give him the message."
"What about you, how are you dealing with it?"
Don shrugged his shoulders. "Not so good. I think I'll pay another visit to Dr. Bradford and talk out a few things myself."
She nodded her head in approval. "I'm glad to hear that Don. I know that it would do you a lot of good to talk to him about it."
"Yeah." he cleared his throat, ready to get back to work. "It looks like you've wrapped up things pretty good. Picarry was the man that Bashere shot and fed to the lion."
She nodded her head. "The DNA results prove that the remains are those of James Picarry."
"I didn't read through all of this yet, what about the elusive Krill?"
"It's all in the file but I'll save you some time. " she said with a smirk. " Ian picked up the tracks where Picarry and Krill separated. Krill's tracks lead to the rocky ridge below the cave where we found Bashere. Edgerton's theory is that the man stumbled over the side of the cliff during the night. They found a semi-automatic caught in the rocks below, no body though, but his prints are on the gun."
Don rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "No chance that he might have doubled back and left the area?"
She shook her head. "No, Ian says that Krill's tracks lead up to the rocks but not away from the area. The mutual consensus is that Krill's body has probably washed out to sea and according to the coast guard there is a strong undercurrent in that area. Another few days and they'll call off the search. It's been almost ten days, so his body could be anywhere by now." She stood up and smiled. "And of course, there are always the sharks."
"Yeah." Don agreed. "There are always the sharks." He stood up himself and arched his back, trying to work the stiffness out of it. "Did Ian backtrack down the trails to be sure? We had a lot of search teams up there, any chance that we could have covered up some of Krill's tracks?"
"None of the survivors made it more than a few miles from the crash site. Edgerton took both trails down to the fire road and none of the tracks he found matched our guys."
"Sounds pretty definite then." The agent stifled a yawn. "I think it's time for another cup of coffee."
I'll join you." Megan said .
They continued to discuss the case as they walked toward the break room. "Any news on our missing mole, Marshal Simmons?" he asked as he held the door open for her.
"Only that he's still missing. I figure his body will turn up in a few months. Bashere was very thorough at severing his loose ends and Simmons was last seen just before he kidnapped Charlie."
"That's pretty much how I figure it too."
They got their coffee and headed back to their desks. Don glanced at his watch, nine-thirty, and he still had a lot of paperwork to get through before he left at noon.
He scrubbed a hand through his hair and settled down to get it finished and at eleven-thirty he closed the last folder, said good-by to his team and headed for the elevator.
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"Hi Don."
Don turned at the door to the craftsman and waved at the Patterson's across the street. Jack and Beth had really been away on a cruise. After a little investigating, Don had discovered that the couple had actually won a cruise to the Caribbean. It had all been arranged by Bashere, of course, so that their house would be vacant when he needed to use it. But as far as the Patterson's were concerned, things had worked out perfectly for them, even though their house had been broken into while they were away. Nothing had been stolen or broken so they didn't let it upset them that much. Even the koi had survived Bashere's visit but only because the Patterson's had hired a neighbor's son to look after them and whether it was just luck or by the Frenchman's design, the boy had never run into the man.
The agent pushed the door open and Charlie called out to him as he closed the door.
"Hey brother, your just in time for lunch."
"Good, I'm starving." Don said as he put his keys on the round table by the door. His hand automatically went to the envelopes that were lying there but as he picked them up he noticed the absence of the crystal bowl that was usually kept there to hold the mail.
"What happened to the bowl?" He asked in surprise just as Alan came through the swinging door from the kitchen carrying a large salad bowl."
An odd expression crossed Alan's face as he answered. "Broken, there …ah…was an accident." he set the dish on the table and quickly returned to the kitchen.
Charlie was sitting at the table and with a sideways glance at the kitchen door, he pretended to have a hammer in his hand and with a grin on his face he mimicked the act of breaking the bowl and then silently mouthed the word 'sledge hammer."
Don's eyebrows shot up as he mouthed "oh" in return and then his lips spread into a broad grin. The agent wasn't surprised that Alan had deliberately broken the bowl, after all, Bashere had given it to Charlie as a gift. Frankly, he was surprised that it had taken his Dad that long to break it. Still grinning he sat down in a chair next to his brother.
Charlie leaned over with a mischievous look in his eyes and whispered. "I think he even sterilized the chess set."
They both burst into laughter when Alan's indignant voice suddenly called from the kitchen.
"I heard that."
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Later that afternoon Don eased the SUV to the side of a narrow road and parked directly across from a burial site at a public cemetery located in a rural part of Ventura. He glanced sideways at his brother as he pulled the key from the ignition.
"Are you sure you want to do this?" he asked again. It was a question that he must have asked at least ten times since they had left the Craftsman that afternoon.
"No…but I need to do this…for my own peace of mind." Charlie said softly as he turned to face his brother. "I need to see the man buried and out of my life."
Don could still see the pain in his brother's eyes from Bashere's attack and he clenched his jaw when he thought of the man. Burial was too good for him, they should have left him for the vultures. As far as he was concerned, that would have been justice, eaten by one of his own kind.
"Okay, let's get this over with." he growled.
"You don't have to go Don, you can stay in the car." his brother advised as he started to open the car door
Don pulled his sunglasses down to the bridge of his nose and held Charlie's gaze. "If your going, then I'm going." He twisted around in the seat so he could face the rear of the car. "Isn't that right Dad?"
"You got that right." Alan Eppes replied gruffly as he opened his own door to get out of the car. He stepped up quickly to the front passenger side of the vehicle and opened the door before Charlie had a chance to push it open. The SUV was high and under normal circumstances his youngest, at five foot seven, would have to climb in and out of the vehicle, but with his current injuries it was even more difficult for him to contend with it's height.
"Charlie, slide out slowly and I'll help you down from there." Alan anxiously watched as his youngest climbed out of the car.
Clutching his cane in one hand and holding onto the door with the other Charlie refused his Dad's assistance and slowly worked his way to solid ground, wincing as his injured leg bumped the edge of the door.
"Did you hurt your leg…you should have let me help you." The elder Eppes admonished his son as he watched him straighten up and lean on his cane. "Of all of the marvelous traits that you inherited from your mother, I truly wish that stubbornness had not been one of them."
Don had come around to the side of the vehicle and Charlie turned so that Alan couldn't see his face, grinning and rolling his eyes at him.
Don chuckled. "You know, Dad, I don't think all of the stubbornness came from Mom."
Alan's eyebrows rose as he put his hands on his hips. "Really ….and just whom do you think it came from?" he asked with a pointed stare at his eldest.
Don coughed and turned his head to hide his smile as his brother came to his rescue.
"Look, Dad, it's not that I don't appreciate your help, I really do. It's just that I have to do these things for myself if I'm going to get better. The therapist said that I need to strengthen the muscles in my leg and I can't do that if your always helping me."
Charlie smiled at him and with the aid of his cane, he slowly walked around his father and headed toward the burial site. Alan let out an exasperated sigh and shared a grim smile with his oldest son as they fell into step behind him.
The sun was warm and Charlie was glad that he had left his jacket behind. As he stepped up to the grave site a breeze stirred the dust at his feet but did nothing to relieve the sweat that was forming on his forehead. With a slightly trembling hand he wiped at his brow; he was still weak from his injuries; the doctor's had told him that it would take a few weeks for his strength to fully return, even longer for his leg to completely heal. Therapy would bring all movement back again and time would take away the pain and stiffness.
However, it was going to take longer for the nightmares to disappear completely and he was fervently hoping that coming here today would help on that end of his recovery.
There were no crowds of people at this grave site, no family members to mourn this man; he had killed them all himself, a long time ago. The priest had said a few words and had already turned away, heading for another burial site a few rows to the right of them,
"Another lost soul to bless and send on it's way," Charlie thought absently as he watched the priest stop and begin to pray. His eyes shifted back to the open grave in front of him and he carefully stepped to the edge of the hole and peered down at the pine box lying at the bottom. No one had come to claim the body and the French Government had decided that they didn't want him back either, so they had sent enough money to give the man a plain burial.
"It was ironic." Charlie thought as he stared at the coffin. "That this man , who had loved luxury so much, would now spend eternity in a plain wooden box. Perhaps this was to be a part of Bashere's own personal hell."
It was over, the man would never bother him again...he was really dead. That's why Charlie had insisted on coming here today, not to mourn the loss of a life, but to breathe a sigh of relief that this particular life was really gone.
"Does that make me a bad person?" he wondered. He didn't think so but maybe he would use the advice that he had given his brother, and pay a visit to Dr. Bradford himself. After that, maybe he could come to grips with his feelings and he and Amita could move on and begin they're life together.
A shadow suddenly blocked the warm sun from his face and he looked up expecting to see his father or brother but was startled when he found himself standing across the open grave from a tall figure. She was dressed in black from head to toe, wearing a long black veil that fell past her shoulders. The veil was so dark that he couldn't make out any facial features and she was carrying a large a bouquet of French lilies. She bowed her head and pulled a flower from the bouquet and tossed it into the open grave. The flower hit the top of the casket with a dull thud.
There was something about the woman that made him feel uncomfortable. He couldn't quite put his finger on it but he was starting to feel as if she were studying him beneath that dark veil. Charlie shifted his position, he was ready to leave anyway, he had accomplished what he had set out to do and there wasn't any reason to linger here any longer. Alan and Don were only a few feet behind him but as he moved to join them the woman spoke to him.
"So…you are the one that killed the beast… yes?" Her voice was deep and sultry and she spoke with a French accent.
Surprise flitted across Charlie's face as he turned back around to face her. Speechless, he stared at the woman, trying to make some sense out of what she had just said. The woman continued to stare at him, waiting for an answer.
"Excuse me?" he asked. "I'm not sure what you mean?"
Before she could respond Alan and Don moved up to stand beside Charlie; they too had heard her question and Don couldn't hold back his irritation.
"I don't know what you've heard but my brother didn't kill anyone....a mountain lion killed Bashere." Don said brusquely, narrowing his eyes as he took in her appearance. "Isn't it a little warm to be dressed that way?"
"Yes, it is warm, but I wear it to pay my respects to the dead. It is the custom, where I am from."
"Was he a friend of yours?" The agent asked suspiciously, his FBI instincts kicking into gear. Maybe she had been involved with the kidnapping and the other crimes.
"Henri Bashere had no friends. I knew him for over thirty years, more or less, but I could not call him a friend." she paused and tilted her head thoughtfully. "More like an acquaintance, perhaps."
"Thirty years is a long time to just remain an "acquaintance." the agent returned, his tone clearly reflecting his disbelief. "I' didn't get your name, mine is Don Eppes." he prompted.
"I did not offer it, but I will tell you all the same. My name is Marie Bastille and in all of the many years that I knew Henri Bashere, he never let himself get close to anyone. That is what made him so rich and powerful…..but it also made him very dangerous."
"Why did you ask me that question?" Charlie asked guardedly.
She turned to face the smaller man and studied him thoughtfully. "I was comparing Henri's life to that of the beast in the French Fairy Tale, " Beauty and the Beast." She paused to consider her words.
"You see, unlike the beast in the fable, whose appearance was beastly, Henri's "beast" was hidden from view and was buried deep within his breast. His "beast" lived inside his cold and uncaring heart. He was not born with a warm heart like the rest of us, you see." Another lily found it's way to the bottom of the hole.
"During all the long years that I knew Henri Bashere, I never heard him complain about the way he was; he was content to be what he had become." She tossed another flower onto the casket and raised her head , facing toward Charlie.
"Is that a "French" thing?" Don asked sarcastically. "Bashere liked to compare real life to fables too."
Her head swiveled toward Don and she appeared to tense up at his words but ignored his question and went on with her story. She brought her chin up and faced Charlie once again.
"When I last saw him he was excited about the future, he had changed you see, the beast within him had somehow been " she paused to search for a word , "diminished. Henri was different this time; it is hard to explain, but I will try." Her gaze dropped to the pine box. "Henri's eyes never showed any warmth….never…they were always cold and unfeeling. This time, however, his eyes would soften when he spoke of a young man, a young man that had become quite "special" to him. He was trying to change, you see, to become someone that this man could love." With a slight tilt to her head she studied the professor. "In the fable, love killed the beast, and so it was with Henri. He allowed himself to love, and therefore, it destroyed the "beast" within him, making him vulnerable."
"And why do you believe that I am that person?" He asked in a sharper tone.
She laughed. "Why, from the photograph, of course, and I must say that after seeing you in person, I can understand why Henri was so attracted to you."
Don wasn't sure if his brother's face had turned red from the compliment or from the effort that it was taking him to control his temper, but whatever it was, it was getting him upset and the agent had not missed the slight tremor of the cane clutched tightly in his brother's white-knuckled grip. It was time to put a stop to this nonsense and get Charlie home where he could calm down and relax but his brother's angry voice interrupted his thoughts.
"Photograph….what photograph?" This time the rage was even more apparent in the mathematician's voice. " How dare the man carry a picture of him! Charlie was furious.
"Do not be angry, mon ami. It is a picture of the two of you together, he was so proud of it, you see, that he even gave me a copy." Her gloved fingers fumbled in her purse until she pulled out the photograph. "Here, I will show you." She held out her hand and offered the picture to him.
"I'll get it." Don quickly offered before Charlie started to make his way around the grave. Don's protective instincts were at full alert, he didn't want his brother anywhere near this woman. He walked briskly around the open grave to take it from her. The agent had hoped to see some of her facial features as he got closer, but the veil reflected the sunlight and all he could see were shadows beneath the folds. He glanced down at the picture and his stomach did a flip flop.
The woman was right about one thing, Charlie was definitely in the picture. He was standing beside Bashere, while the man was sitting in a chair. His hand placed lovingly on the Frenchman's forearm and they were both smiling at one another.
He met his brother's angry gaze across the open grave and wished with all of his heart that he didn't have to show him the picture. Don reluctantly made his way back to his brother's side and handed him the photograph with a disgusted comment. "It's obviously a fake."
Charlie's face paled as he took the photograph and he heard Alan's sudden intake of breath at the sight of it. His eyes flashed angrily as he raised his head and glared at the woman across from him.
"I only met the man twice and I certainly didn't pose for this picture or any other picture with him." Angrily, he ripped the picture into tiny pieces and let them fall into the open grave. As the last piece fell among the lilies he whispered hoarsely. "The man was insane!"
"Perhaps, but even in madness, there are moments of lucidity." She laughed softly and it echoed eerily around the quiet graveyard. "Perhaps you gave him an insight into sanity and he wanted more."
Charlie felt a shiver run up his spine as his memory flashed back to moments on the plane before it had crashed. Several times he thought he had seen different emotions flicker briefly in Bashere's eyes, and then on the cliff face, moments before the Frenchman had stabbed him, he had seemed like a different person. "Had that been sanity trying to break through or just madness?"
He felt his Dad's hand on his shoulder and he looked up into his concerned eyes.
"You don't look so good son, I think we should go." he whispered softly.
"Dad's right Charlie, you need to lie down." Don added as he placed a supporting hand under his brother's elbow. "We've been here long enough. What do you say bro?"
Charlie swallowed and nodded in acquiescence.; he was starting to feel a little shaky and his leg was beginning to throb in earnest so he turned around to begin the trek back to the car.
The veiled lady, however, was not finished with him. She had one more question to ask.
"So, why have you come here, if not to mourn?"
Charlie's eyes, which only moments before had reflected anguish, turned hard as he turned back to face her.
"I came to make sure that he was dead." he answered coldly.
"Ah, my sweet mon ami, I ask you this?" She purred. "Does evil truly die? If we have been touched by such abhorrent evil does it really leave us or does a part of it remain connected to us for the rest of our lives. Henri told me that picture was a copy of a painting that he had commissioned and is now hanging in one of his many estates."
"Where is this estate? Do you have an address?" Charlie asked desperately. He had to find that painting and destroy it.
She laughed as she tossed her last lily into the open grave . "I have no idea, he never told me, and before you ask, I do not know where any of his estates are located. I cannot help you find it. " Her voice turned cold. "I have a feeling that even in death, Henri Bashere will touch your life for a very long time."
The woman inclined her head toward him and pivoted around on her foot. "Adieu, mon ami." She said as she slowly walked away.
"Don't pay any attention to her Charlie." Alan advised as they began to walk back toward the car.
"Yeah." Don added, "She's just as crazy as Bashere was." But his eyes followed the French woman to a limo that was waiting by the side of the road.
Charlie anxiously turned toward his brother. "What if she was right and what about that painting? "
"The tech's found his laptop Charlie, maybe we can find something in there?'" Don said in an effort to calm his brother down.
"It's like Don said, she's just as crazy as Bashere was, so she could be lying about the painting." Alan said as they reached the car. It worried him that Charlie didn't protest when he offered to help him get into the SUV. His youngest just took his arm without a word and settled in the seat.
Don pulled out and headed around the cemetery hoping to catch sight of the vehicle the French woman was riding in. There was something about her that had him on edge, he needed to know more about her. He pulled up behind the limo just as it was making a turn but he had enough time to get the license plate number before it was lost from view.
"Charlie, would you write that license number down for me?" he asked as he pulled a notebook from his pocket and handed it to him.
"Yeah, sure." Charlie responded.
"That's French isn't it?" Alan asked from the back. "One of those specialized plates."
"I'll get it translated tomorrow." Don said as he flipped on his turn signal and headed back toward Pasadena.
"You won't have to wait Don, I can tell you what it says." Charlie said in a strained voice. "a bientot," it actually has two meanings." He glanced at his brother as he explained. "It either means "so long" or "until next time."
"It doesn't mean anything Charlie. That lady obviously has a wicked sense of humor and I know who she is now. She's the owner of the dating service that Bashere frequented."
Charlie nodded and forced his doubts aside. "Your right, it's finally over. Bashere is dead."
TBC