Saturday, December 3, 1988
"Go, Eagles."
Amanda cheered with the
crowd as the junior high's eighth grade team scored another basket. From her
perch behind the concession stand, she caught Jamie's eye, acknowledging his
bashful grin as the coach substituted him into the game. The team was up by
almost ten points now; the second string would get a chance to play after
all.
She watched with pride
as he raced down the court, wishing Lee could be here to applaud with her. He
had worked so hard to help Jamie improve his skills last summer. Those endless
drills every night after dinner had finally done the trick. He would never be the star athlete his
brother was, but being part of the team this year had made all the difference
for her youngest son.
One title he wouldn't
hold for much longer, she thought as the baby made his presence known. Pretty
soon there would be another little guy around to claim it. She'd expected Jamie to be bothered by that,
but he actually seemed excited at the prospect of being a 'big' brother.
If only Phillip felt the
same way. She'd tried to understand his attitude, but despite her best
intentions, she still felt a little hurt. It was unreasonable, she knew; at
almost sixteen, it was really no surprise that Phillip would be more excited by
a new car than a new brother. Still, she missed the little boy he had once
been, open, cheerful and always ready to lend a helping hand.
"Cheese nachos,
please."
The little girl tilted
her head, her beribboned pigtails bouncing as she moved.
"Here you go,
sweetheart," she said, handing her the order. The child's bright hazel
eyes struck a familiar chord. It would have been so nice to have a daughter,
Amanda thought wistfully. A little girl who was the image of Lee had been her
secret wish, but the look on her husband's face when she told him she was
giving him a son was something she would always treasure. She closed her eyes for a moment, focusing
on that memory instead of the troublesome fact that he'd missed his check-in
this morning.
"Amanda, did you
see it?" her mother asked, excitedly joining her at the stand. "Jamie
scored a basket!"
"He did?" She
looked over in time to see her son receive his teammates' congratulations. They continued as the buzzer sounded, the
boys cheering loudly as they lined up to shake hands with the losing team. Acknowledging the woman who was taking the
next shift with a nod, she made her way to the doorway with her mother to wait
for Jamie.
"Good game,"
she praised him when he finally arrived.
"Thanks," he
grinned, shifting his black canvas bag to his right shoulder. "It was a
lucky shot."
"Lucky?" Dotty
exclaimed. "After all that practice?"
"Well, Lee showed
me a couple of things," he grinned.
"You know,"
Dotty continued, "My Uncle Orloff used to have a bank shot like that. He
wanted to be a professional player, and I think he even had an offer from a
team or two, you know, the ones with the funny names, but Aunt Shirley refused
to move to Seattle. What?" she exclaimed, catching the expression on Amanda
and Jamie's faces. "Her hair frizzed in the rain. Perfectly acceptable
reason."
Amanda smiled.
"Who's hungry for pizza?"
"I could sure go
for some. Hey, can we go to Mario's?" Jamie paused, his forehead scrunched
thoughtfully. "Unless you're too tired. . ."
"We used to go
there almost every week, didn't we?" Amanda replied thoughtfully as they
crossed the parking lot in search of the Wagoneer.
"Yeah."
"Phillip
used to love that place," Dotty said wistfully as they spotted the
car. "Too bad he was going out
tonight. . . Amanda, dear, do you want me to drive?"
Amanda and Jamie
exchanged a look. "Ah, no thanks, I've got it."
Dotty nodded.
"Well, okay. It is a shame Phillip isn't here, it would be just like old
times."
"He hasn't seen
Tommy Nelson in a long time, Mother. I'm glad he's spending time with some of
his old friends. . . Jamie," she asked quizzically as she noticed him
standing like a statue beside the car. "Is something the matter?"
"Uh, no," he
stammered, bending down to re-tie his black and white sneaker.
"Everything's fine. I'm just hungry."
"Me, too,"
Dotty added as she settled into the front seat. "Now what was that
perfectly awful concoction we used to order – the one Phillip loved?"
"Pepperoni, bacon
and green pepper," Amanda laughed as she and Jamie piled into the car.
"Don't cringe, Mother, but, actually, that sounds pretty good to me right
now."
"Oh, Amanda,"
Dotty groaned as they pulled out of the parking lot.
* * * * *
"Lee. . . wait." Joe King fairly choked on
the words as he doubled over, chest heaving.
Lee nodded, slowing perceptibly as he caught the
note of desperation in Joe's voice. He watched as the older man braced his
hands awkwardly against his left knee, wincing as he swallowed great gulps of
air. Pursing his lips, he laid a
comforting hand on Joe's shoulder.
"How's the leg?" he asked in a low voice.
"I'll live,"
Joe returned between raspy breaths. "I think. Just don't ask me to run the
four minute mile right now."
Lee chuckled softly; at
least Joe's sense of humor seemed to be intact. Listening to the man with one
ear, his eyes cautiously swept the trail. "We can take a minute if you need it. I've bought us a little
time."
"I thought they'd
be hot on our trail."
"They think we're
meeting La Gaviota, so they'll look for us by the water for awhile. My friend,
Carlos, looked a little too 'twitchy' the last time we talked," he added
in response to Joe's puzzled look, "so I altered the plan."
"Carlos?"
"My contact. My
partner had a bad feeling about him right from the start." As always,
Houdini's instincts had been right on the money. Carlos had more than likely
sold out to the highest bidder. Lee smiled grimly. He certainly didn't want to
be in the poor man's shoes when his other employers discovered the tables had
been turned.
"So," Joe
asked, interrupting his thoughts of revenge. "Just where are we headed?"
"Inland - about one
day's travel from here, give or take. There's nowhere in this area to land a
helicopter. Once we rendezvous with Houdini, we'll head straight to the
airport. . . and home. Piece of cake."
Lee smiled reassuringly
at Joe's doubtful look. He knew only too well that the plan contained some
flaws, the most glaring of which was Joe's physical condition. The grueling
pace they had to set would try the most seasoned agent, let alone a civilian –
and an injured one at that. A detail
both he and Houdini seemed to have overlooked; one he was certain Amanda would
have picked up on instantly. He
realized belatedly just how much he'd come to rely on her instincts over the
years.
Watching the pain flash
through his companion's eyes, he offered a steadying arm. "Here, lean on me," he urged,
half-lifting him as he helped him off the trail to a small clearing. Depositing
him against a fallen tree trunk, he, too, dropped to the ground, wincing as he
searched for a comfortable spot. "A few more minutes of rest won't hurt
either one of us."
Reaching for his
canteen, he offered it to Joe. "Just a little," he cautioned,
"it's got to last us a while." Resting his hand on the side of the
container, he guided it to Joe's parched lips.
Sighing as the water
soothed his throat, Joe leaned back wearily. "Lee, tell me the truth. How much time do we really have before
they come after us?"
He shrugged, removing
his cap and wiping the sweat from his forehead. It wouldn't take the rebel soldiers too long to realize they
hadn't headed for the coast. They'd double back, no doubt able to make much
better time. Sighing, he fitted the cap
carefully back into place. That silver lining he always clung to was becoming
more elusive every minute, and he silently cursed their luck.
"Sorry I'm slowing
us down," he heard Joe mumble through gritted teeth, struggling to stifle
his groan as he slumped down against the moss-covered tree trunk.
Lee shifted to one side,
expertly assessing Joe's condition as he gave him a quick once-over. His leg
wound was seeping again. "Here,
let me take a look at that," he said matter-of-factly, rifling though his
small backpack for the first-aid kit.
Using a pocketknife, he
carefully cut away what was left of Joe's pants, whistling softly as he saw the
full extent of the injury. Even to his
layman's eye, the wound was obviously infected. "I'm afraid you're gonna have to settle for a field dressing
until this is over," he told him as he retrieved the small tube of
antibacterial ointment from the kit. "We can't risk medical attention, not
until we get back to the States. They'd be all over us in a second."
"It's okay. It's
waited this long. . ." Joe closed his eyes tightly, his face taking on a
grayish hue as Lee treated the wound, wrapping a light gauze bandage around the
infected area.
"When did you get
this?" he asked, hoping to distract him. He'd seen Joe wince a few times
as he'd worked, and he knew his efforts hurt as much as helped.
"Two weeks
ago," Joe grunted through gritted teeth. "Hasn't been this bad for
that long, though. . . maybe just a couple of days. It's hard to say exactly; I
kind of lost track of time there for a while, you know?"
Lee nodded soberly.
"Have you been alone this whole time?"
"No," Joe
replied in a small voice. "They grabbed three of us that first day. There
were soldiers, too, in the beginning - always watching us, never letting us
rest. Manuel – he's the one you shot – he was the worst." He sighed
bitterly, closing his eyes as his mind relived a memory too private to
share.
Lee recognized the look;
he'd seen it too many times in other debriefings, on the faces of agents pushed
beyond their level of endurance. He ran a hand nervously through his hair,
observing Joe King with renewed concern.
"Then one night the
guards were suddenly gone. They were celebrating, they'd just gotten new
rations or something," Joe continued blandly, his tone prickling the hair on
the back of Lee's neck. "Just like last night. Anyway, we made a break for
it. We didn't know the perimeter of the camp was booby-trapped." Joe
laughed cynically. "Must have been why they weren't that worried about
us."
Lee narrowed his eyes,
fairly certain of what was coming. "You were the only prisoner in the
camp," he said, stating the facts in the softly modulated tones of a class
'C' interrogation. He watched
dispassionately as Joe wiped his forehead, his fingers lightly massaging his right
temple.
"Bill Johnson, he
was a local contact for the EAO. . . he fell. A spike punctured his chest. I. .
I tried to help him and took one in the leg."
"And the
third?" Lee continued gently. He knew the answer, but he also knew that
Joe needed to tell him.
"He wasn't
hurt," his companion whispered softly, clutching the canteen to his
chest. "A small group of soldiers
came for him the next day. We didn't know if they'd moved him to another
location, or if they'd. . . well, at any rate, they didn't have to worry any
more. Bill and I weren't in any shape to try to escape again." Joe's eyes
clouded as he lost himself in the memory. "When he finally died three days
later, I couldn't be sorry. I was just glad he wasn't suffering anymore. It should
have been me," he finished, his voice rising sharply. "The escape was my idea."
"It was a gutsy
move, Joe," Lee told him with grudging admiration. "I'd have done the
same thing."
Joe smiled grimly.
"You wouldn't have been here in the first place. I should have listened to
what you were trying to tell me that night at dinner – you and Amanda." He
cast a quick glance in Lee's direction, handing him back the canteen with a
rueful look. "Thank you for not saying 'I told you so'."
"You're
welcome," Lee stated blandly as he took a small swig of water. Recapping
the canteen, he stood, stretching his cramped muscles before slowly extending
his hand. "How about it, think you
can cover a few more miles before dark?"
"Absolutely,"
Joe declared, shuddering as he allowed Lee to pull him to his feet. "Let's
get the hell out of here."
* * * * *
"Well, that does
it, that really does it," Dotty sighed as she brought the large laundry
basket down the stairs.
"What does?"
Amanda called from the family room couch, adding as she caught sight of her
mother, "The boys are old enough to bring down their own stuff, you don't
have to be doing that. Besides, I thought we were going to watch the late
show."
Dotty set the basket on
the floor with a thud. "Amanda, I certainly don't want you carrying this,
and if I waited for Phillip to do it, he wouldn't have a stitch of clothes to
wear. Honestly, darling, that boy can't tell the difference between the floor
and a laundry basket. Where are you going?" she asked as Amanda headed to
the kitchen. "The movie's started. . ."
"I need a glass of
milk. I've got the worst indigestion."
"I told you not to
eat that last piece of pizza," Dotty called over her shoulder. Tilting her
head to the side, she sighed as Amanda came back into the room. "I just
love these old Doris Day movies. They just don't make them like that anymore,
you know?"
"I know,"
Amanda replied, rubbing her belly as she eased back down onto the couch.
"Mother, leave those clothes for tomorrow."
"I can do this as I
watch," she said, leaning forward as she began to efficiently sort the
colors from the whites. "Just look at these jeans," she exclaimed,
holding up a wadded ball of denim. "These I found under Phillip's bed, in
exactly this condition." Shaking her head, she returned her attention to
the T.V. screen. "You know, Amanda, how can Doris fall for such a line? I
mean, no one is that gullible. . ."
Amanda raised an
eyebrow. "No, Mother, you're absolutely right." She leaned back into
the soft cushions, shifting as she struggled to find a comfortable
position. Lately she'd spent so many
evenings like this, curled up on the couch with Lee, his broad chest her
pillow. It was so hard to be without him.
She wondered how they'd ever survived the lonely months of their 'mystery marriage'.
Maybe he was feeling the
same ache right now, missing their quiet time together. After all, it was only
an hour earlier in Santarilla. She closed her eyes, letting that image fill her
mind. He was okay; she just knew it. She'd told Billy exactly that an hour ago
when he reluctantly informed her that Scarecrow and Houdini had both missed
their second check-in.
"Amanda,
dear," her mother stated softly, "why don't you head up to bed? I'll
wait up for Phillip."
"No, that's okay –
I couldn't sleep anyway until he's home." A dull pain cut across her lower
back and she squirmed, glancing at the clock. Phillip was allowed out until twelve-thirty tonight; thirty more
minutes, then she would go to bed. A good night's sleep would give her a
different perspective.
"I could watch this
movie a million times," her mother observed with a grin as she finished
going through the wash, carefully checking the pockets of all the pants.
"I hope Phillip is having a good time with Tommy tonight – he's such a nice.
. ."
"A nice what?"
she murmured absently, giving Dotty her full attention. Her mother had paused,
frowning, her hand frozen in the pocket of Phillip's jeans. "Mother, what
is it?"
"That's just what I
was thinking," Dotty said curtly, removing the small, square package and
holding it gingerly between her well-manicured thumb and forefinger. Eyebrow
raised, she looked from Amanda to the screen. "Think Doris has an answer
for this?"
"Oh my gosh."
Dotty looked at her
queerly. "Amanda, your fifteen year old son has a condom in his pocket,
and that's all you can say?"
She shook her head.
"At the moment, yes." She pursed her lips. "Maybe it doesn't
mean what we think it does – maybe he's just carrying it around, you know. .
."
"In case of an
emergency?" Dotty smiled grimly. "I don't think they covered that one
in the Junior Trailblazer Handbook, do you?"
"I'm obviously
going to have to talk to him," Amanda groaned.
"Obviously. Where
do you suppose he got this?" Dotty asked, tossing the item on the coffee
table.
Amanda reddened,
recognizing the brand. "Uh, I have a sneaking suspicion he's been looking
in places he shouldn't. Another thing we'll have to talk about. . ."
The phone rang, cutting
her off. Amanda struggled to rise, but Dotty waved her back. "Sit still,
I'll get it." She stuck her head in the room a minute later, a puzzled
expression on her face. "Amanda, it's Phillip; he wants to talk to you. He
sounds upset."
"Coming," she
moaned, pushing off against the arm of the couch. Taking the receiver from her mother, she spoke quickly, Dotty
looking on with an anxious face.
"Phillip?"
"Mom? I'm really
sorry, I really am," he said breathlessly.
"What's the
matter?" she demanded, clutching the phone as she unconsciously
straightened her back. "Phillip, you aren't making any sense. Where are
you? Have you had an accident?"
"Not exactly,"
Phillip answered cryptically. "I'm, uh, at the police station."
"The police. .
."
"Mrs.
Stetson?" a strong voice interrupted. "This is officer Sam
Harris."
Amanda clutched the
phone, her frown deepening as she listened to the man's cursory explanation.
"Thank you, officer," she said through gritted teeth when he
finished. "I'll be there in a few minutes." She replaced the phone in
its cradle, leaning against the wall as she tried to ignore the pounding of her
heart.
"Amanda. . ."
"Phillip's been
arrested," she said in a low voice.
"Arrested! What on
earth. . ."
"For underage
drinking. There was a party at his friend Jeremy's house. Evidently he wasn't
spending the evening with 'nice' Tommy after all." Amanda sighed.
"I've got to go pick him up. It seems they'll release him to a parent's
custody." Grumbling under her breath, she headed upstairs to change her
clothes.
"Do you want me to
go with you?" Dotty called after her.
"No, stay here with
Jamie. I'll be fine." Whether or not Phillip would be fine remained to be
seen; she doubted the drive to the local police department was long enough to
completely cool her boiling anger.
Rubbing her lower back,
she ran the rest of the way up the stairs.