After dropping Terrell and Mitchell off at the local I.S.A. offices, Shane drove directly to the locally renowned Salem Inn to secure a suite for the duration of his stay, but since it was impossible to determine an exact length of time required to close the investigation, he made an open-ended reservation for a one bedroom suite with internet access and laundry service, both of which were easily accommodated.
With only one garment bag and his laptop case to manage, he declined the offer of a bellboy, and with one bag in each hand, he boarded the elevator alone and rode it to his assigned floor, where he walked wearily down the long corridor, following the ascending numbers on the suite doors until he reached the one that that been assigned to him. Tucking the computer case under his left arm to free up his right hand, he inserted the key card into the slot and listened as the mechanism unlocked the door. Stepping inside, he paused to view the space in which he would be living for the unforeseeable future.
With a job that had, over the years, required a great deal of travel, he had grown accustomed to hotels and living out of a suitcase, but as he aged, the experience was growing tedious. The suite at Salem Inn was tastefully decorated and more than adequate for his temporary needs, but it there was little difference between it and the many other hotels in which he had roomed.
The small entry area in which he stood opened up to a spacious living room with a plush corner sofa set and plenty of comfortable chairs. A big screen television was mounted on the wall facing the sofa set. The far wall accommodated a sliding glass door opposite the entryway with a plush full length drape, and the balcony outside offered a lovely view of downtown Salem and the gently rolling Midwestern hills beyond. On his right was a small kitchenette complete with a microwave oven and a small refrigerator. A decorative French door on his left led to the bedroom and lavatory.
Last, a desk was tucked unassumingly into a small alcove beside the kitchenette, and he allowed his eyes to linger there, examining the workspace. Complete with a bright florescent light and an Ethernet cable, it would provide an excellent working area that he knew would see a great deal of use during his stay. The assignment intrigued him, and he was reluctant to relinquish command and control to the less experienced and personally detached Captain Mitchell. Shane knew the subject and was personally involved, so he would be conducting his own investigations apart from theirs.
Entering the bedroom through the lovely French doors, he deposited his garment bag on the queen sized bed with its plushy comforter in dark forest colors, then opened the closet, which he had been told by the front desk contained a built-in safe. It was there, nestled in the rear corner, its door open and ready to receive the objects he needed to secure. Kneeling down, he programmed his own access code into it, and locked the laptop and the USB drive securely inside it.
Next, he unpacked the small wardrobe that Hargrove had hastily put together for him; two pairs of jeans and a pair of slacks, and three shirts that could be worn with either, plus socks and underwear, his shaving kit and other toiletries. As he hung the clothing in the closet, observing the large empty space, he wondered if it might be beneficial to visit a local clothing store to pick up a few items. He had left England in such haste that there had not been time to properly pack a suitable wardrobe. He would see to that tomorrow.
After the toiletries were deposited in the lavatory, Shane leaned his hands on the countertop for several moments, observing his reflection in the large mirror over the double sink. He was tired, and that fact was reflected in the weary eyes and the five o'clock shadow that was starting to appear on his face, reminding him that he had not shaved since before his trip to London the day before. He dragged his hand along his jaw, feeling the bristly stubble, but rejected the notion of shaving. It was late and there was no one to impress, so there was little point in worrying about it at that moment. He would wait until morning and start fresh after a good night's sleep.
With a sigh, experiencing a sudden, profound sensation of aloneness and weariness, he returned to the bedroom, contemplating the idea of lying down for a while before he went to supper, then rejected that idea as well. He was too tired to begin work on the case, but he felt too restless to take a nap. He needed to unwind from the effects of the meeting and the long flight.
His eyes strayed to the digital clock on the bedside table. The illuminated numbers indicated that the time was shortly after four o'clock, and he was faced with several empty hours before supper. Feeling unusually fidgety and with no desire to sit down and watch television, he grabbed the car keys again, returned to the main entrance, and requested his car.
For a while, he merely drove aimlessly around Salem's streets, passing many of the businesses and eateries he had frequented during his life there, but he did not stop at any of them. This was merely a drive to reacquaint himself with the layout of the city, or at least that is what he told himself. In actuality, he was chasing memories, some good, some painfully bad, but there was no denying he still regarded Salem with fondness.
As he drove the streets of town, though, he never forgot that danger lurked, and he cast frequent glances in the rear view mirror, assuring himself that he was not being followed. He was not particularly surprised to find that no vehicle remained behind him for any suspicious length of time. Whoever had been following Kayla must have realized that she was out of reach and had been pulled from the detail. Steve's kidnappers would likely be huddled somewhere, discussing their bad luck and making alternate plans.
When his tour of Salem neared the local park, Shane turned the wheel on impulse and pulled into the parking area, easing the rental car into one of the empty parking spaces. In the shadow of University Hospital, the park was a popular place for the staff to break for lunch, utilizing the many picnic tables and park benches while children enjoyed the playground equipment and the sandboxes.
The park had long been considered one of the town's major hubs, a place where nearly every resident had spent time, and as he gazed at the mature green trees, the soft grassy turf, and the familiar park benches, he was inundated by a strong sense of nostalgia. In that park, in happier times, he had met Kim on warm summer days to share a bagged lunch from a local hamburger hut, or in winter had strolled the glittering snowy paths while sharing warm chestnuts, and they had taken walks while pushing baby Andrew in his pram.
His wistful sigh was loud in the silence of the car, wondering how they could have allowed their relationship to go so wrong. Unfortunately, those happier days were gone forever and could not be recaptured.
With his mood subdued by the ambush of memories, he almost drove away in an attempt to escape them, but he knew it would do no good. They were firmly imbedded in his mind, and would not be so easily evaded.
Typically bustling with activity on summer days and weekends, only a few people were visible from the parking area, but a glance at the illuminated clock on the dash revealed the time was nearing the dinner hour. Activity would probably pick up again later in the evening. In the meantime, it seemed a pleasant time to enjoy a few quiet minutes in the park to unwind and to clear his mind before retiring to his room at the Inn.
Shane opened the car door and stepped out onto the asphalt. As he closed the door and observed the park, deciding which direction to go, a young woman wearing a pair of shorts and a sleeveless blouse jogged past with a Dalmatian trotting happily alongside, its tongue lolling out the side of its mouth. It glanced at him as they passed the car, and he saw a slight tail wag when they made eye contact, but it never broke stride.
Dressed in jeans and a long sleeved shirt, he was not properly attired for a jog, but it had been a long time since he had taken a walk just for pleasure, so he rolled up his sleeves and strolled casually behind the woman and her dog. The early evening temperatures were warm but not unpleasant, and for a while he enjoyed the cooling breeze and the sounds of birds and the sight of squirrels routing in the grass for acorns.
The distance between him and the bouncing ponytail increased until she finally vanished around a curve in the path behind a clump of bushes, the dog still trotting faithfully at heel.
He was approaching a park bench on his right, shaded by tall maple trees, which faced away from the path, and he noticed that the bench was occupied by a woman with long hair. Her back was to him, thumbing through a large periodical, perhaps a newspaper, but there was something about her posture and movements, even her style o clothing, that brought him to a complete stop.
A pensive frown drew his brows together, studying her carefully, focusing on those things that reminded him of one very specific person.
His first reaction was to deny the possibility. No, it could not be her. The coincidence would simply be too remarkable. His second reaction was to acknowledge the painful longing that possibility brought.
She turned another page, and her face turned slightly toward the new page, allowing him a glimpse of her profile, and as the uncertainly melted away, he felt his heart constrict with regret.
Faced with a decision, he shifted his gaze toward the path he had been following. Should he simply continue on his way; pretend he hadn't seen her? Or should he stop to exchange pleasantries? Would she be happy to see him, or would she tell him to get lost? The decision was simple. She was the mother of his children. At the very least, he wanted to inquire after them.
Leaving the path, he moved onto the grassy turf and stopped several paces behind her. His hand moved to his face, feeling the bristly stubble, acutely aware of the fact that he had left the Inn without shaving, and then silently chided himself for worrying about something that didn't matter. She was a married woman. His appearance was irrelevant.
After several false starts, wondering how she would react, he managed to speak her name. "Kim?"
Responding to her name and the familiar voice, she turned to face him. He realized at that moment that he needn't have worried that she would not be happy to see him. Her smile was as warm as the sunshine, and he felt his heart leap eagerly beneath his ribs, as if joyful to see her.
"Shane," she said in the smooth mellow voice that he had always loved, and his heart lurched again in reaction to hearing it.
He dragged his fingers through his thick salt and pepper hair, struggling to open the conversation. His eyes dropped to the newspaper she had lowered to her lap, recognizing it as a popular supermarket tabloid. "Taken to reading scandal sheets?"
She laughed, a slightly embarrassed musical laugh that filled him with pleasure. "No, not usually. I found this on the bench when I sat down, so I picked it up and started glancing through it." She lowered her voice to a conspiratorial tone. "Did you know there are alien babies being raised by humans, right here in the United States?"
He chuckled at her sense of humor. "No, I wasn't aware of that."
Still smiling at their shared joke, she changed the subject, "I didn't know you were in Salem."
"Well, I . . . I didn't really expect to be here," he replied, wondering why his voice sounded so strange. He paused to clear his throat, pretending that his discomfort was physical rather than emotional. "Something came up, and it was necessary to come back." There, that sounded more like himself.
If she noticed the odd sound to his voice, she gave no indication. "Does it have anything to do with why Bo came to the pub earlier to get Kayla and Stephanie? He made it all sound so mysterious, but he refused to even give a hint as to what it was all about."
At the mention of Kayla's name, he glanced quickly around the area to verify that they were alone, a gesture of familiar vigilance that she did not fail to notice.
The smile she had been wearing melted into a frown of concern for her sister. "What's going on? Bo had Mom and Dad pretty upset and worried that Kay might have gotten herself into some trouble, or something."
"No, no, nothing like that," he assured her. Closing the gap between them, he placed his hands on the back of the bench, collecting his thoughts and deciding how much he should reveal. "Something has happened, and because it concerns Steve, Kayla deserved to hear about it first."
"Steve?" Kim asked.
He glanced cautiously around the park again, assuring himself that no one had approached them, then turned to face her. "Yes. This is going to come as a tremendous surprise, but it turns out that he's alive."
Her expression was skeptical. "Is this for real?"
"Yes. If you'll take a walk with me, I'll tell you about it, but I would appreciate it if you would keep it quiet for now."
"All right," she said.
Tossing the tabloid in the wire refuse basket, she joined him as he stepped onto the path again.
"Steve is really alive?" she asked.
"Yes. He quite literally crossed my path last night as I was returning from London." Briefly, he described his unexpected encounter with Steve on the road and the story he had told, giving her an abbreviated version of Steve's kidnapping and escape, plus some of the information they had learned during the meeting, knowing that she would understand its classified nature.
She listened attentively, then asked, "Where has he been all this time? And how? I mean, I thought we had buried him!"
"We buried a coffin, but apparently he wasn't in it."
Kim fell silent for several moments, remembering her sister's grief over losing the love of her life. The frown on her brow indicated that she was very disturbed by what she had just heard. "This all sounds so outlandish!. And you have no idea who is behind all this?" she asked when he had completed the narrative.
"Well, all roads seem to lead back to Alamain, although the only evidence we have is circumstantial at this point. The man who purchased the house may or may not be Alamain, but right now, it sure looks like it."
"What could he be looking for?" she asked, mystified.
"No idea, but given their determination to get it and the length of time that Steve was held captive, it must be something very, very significant."
"What about Kayla? If these people are after Steve, doesn't that place her in danger as well?"
"She was definitely in danger," he admitted, "but one of the first things Steve asked was if I would put a guard on her, so I assigned an agent to follow her and to report directly to me if he saw anyone hanging around her. The agent reported that someone was indeed watching her, and once that person realized he had been spotted, he took off and hasn't been seen since. Bo took Kayla to the safe house, where Steve is. She'll be fine there, but I must confess that I am concerned about the rest of the family. These people are desperate, and we don't know what they will do to get Steve back. Keep your eyes open, and if you see any strangers hanging around the pub, give me or Bo or Roman a call."
"I will." Kim was quiet for several moments, thinking about that. "Kayla never really got over losing Steve. This is the first time she's been back to Salem since she moved away. She just wasn't comfortable being here, with all the memories of her life with him, and yet ever since she arrived, she's been driving around, visiting all the places that were important to him."
He nodded, understanding her desire to visit the places that Steve had enjoyed. Hadn't he just been doing the same thing regarding his own past? "As a matter of curiosity, why did she come back now?"
"Mom and Pop have been after both of us to come back home for a family gathering. I finally decided to take them up on it, but we didn't think Kayla would be here. Then, right out of the blue, she called to say that she was coming."
"Seems odd, doesn't it?" he asked. "That she would decide, right out of the blue, to come back now, when Steve was on his way back to her."
"Yes, it does. Whatever the reason, I'm glad he's okay, and that the two of them will get a second chance together. It's always a good thing for families to be together."
He fell silent, and when she glanced over at him, he was looking at her strangely, and she suddenly felt self-conscious about her last statement.
After a few minutes, he asked, "So, how long have you been here?"
"Oh, about a week. Like Kayla, I thought it was time for a visit."
"So, you didn't just arrive, then. Bo and Roman obviously knew you were here, didn't they?"
She looked surprised. "Yes, of course." Realization dawned. "They didn't tell you, did they?"
"No, they didn't. Did the kids come with you?" he asked, hopefully.
"Jeannie did, but Andrew had already made plans to go camping in the Cascades with the family of his best friend, and I didn't have the heart to make him come with us. If I'd known you were going to be here . . ." she added, then let the thought trail away.
Shane nodded, understanding. "I didn't know myself until the last minute. I'm sure he's having a good time. I'd love to see Jeannie, if she can spare a few minutes for the old man."
"Sure. She'll like that. They both miss you."
"It's hard to believe they're growing up so fast."
"I know. Andrew is 16 and in high school. It's a very nice private school in Seattle, you know."
"Yes, I pay the tuition."
"I know. I wish you'd let me help you with that."
"No, I'm glad to do it. And I want him to have a college education, too, but I do hope he'll pick Oxford. He probably won't want to make the drive every day, but he can have spent his weekends with me at the estate."
Kim gave an uncomfortable shrug. "Well, I'm sure he would like that, but I don't know if he'll want to leave his friends. You know how kids are."
"Yeah, I know. I just don't get to spend much time with either of them."
More silence settled over them.
He could imagine what she was thinking: that if he had not divorced her and moved back to England, he would have been more involved in the lives of both his children. He was paying the price for distancing himself from them.
But as he studied her face, calm, even serene, he decided she probably was not thinking anything so harsh. She seemed genuinely happy to see him, and he knew he was happy to see her. He wondered . . . .
"Kim," he began, paused briefly, then when she gazed at him quizzically, waiting for him to continue, he cleared his throat nervously, glanced idly around the park, then said, "I was wondering. With you and Jeannie both here in Salem, maybe the three of us could go out to supper tonight. As a family. I mean, I'll understand if you don't want to, but I thought maybe Jeannie would enjoy it, and I'd really like to see her."
Kim smiled, pleased that he wanted to spend time with his daughter. "I'm sure she would enjoy that. Yeah, it's fine with me. What did you have in mind?"
"I don't know, really. It's been a long time since I've been back here, and I don't know where all the good places are."
"Pretty much the same places as before, with a few new ones. I think Jeannie would be happy pretty much anywhere except the more formal places."
"Well, I didn't bring any formal clothes, anyway. Steve and I sort of flew out of England in a hurry, and there wasn't time to make any wardrobe selections. Why don't you two talk it over and pick out something, and I'll pick you two up at six? You are staying at the pub, right?"
"Do you think Mom would allow me to stay anywhere else?"
"I suppose not," he agreed, affectionately.
"Okay, sounds good."
"I'll walk with you back to your car, if that's okay," he suggested.
"Sure."
Together, Kim and Shane strolled along the path toward the parking lot, and they began to feel more at ease with each other. Talking together was more comfortable, and the years seemed to melt away as they reminisced about things they had enjoyed during their marriage.