A TIME FOR CONFESSION
Ellen Landry-Cole had arisen early that Monday morning. Since she had taken her job at the White House, her days began at the crack of dawn. Of course she had nannies and the like to help get the children to school, but it didn't keep her from having to rise with the chickens. She got herself together fairly quickly, kissed her husband and children goodbye, and then she was out the door. Ten or twelve years ago, if someone told her she would be working with the president, she would have laughed in his or her face. She didn't like thinking of those years much, because she was actually dissatisfied with the person she was back then. She had told her cousin a horrendous lie, making her think that a particular someone had gotten her pregnant. Elle often wondered if she hadn't been a bit behind Grant's slide into crime. She had heard of Kira's misdeeds first hand from the vice president. How many lives had her cousin messed up? She knew that Kira had targeted Chase Martel, the man supposedly behind Elle's pregnancy. The VP took a ton of flack whenever a CIA agent turned rogue, and this was no exception. He had gotten a thorough chewing out by the president, and the director was fired, and thrown into jail. A new director was hired in and each agent was forced to endure an extensive round of psychological testing. It should have been done with Kira, but she had evaded everything, including deprogramming. Kira had been able to avoid this simply because she was fucking around with Director Dubois.
Elle had once loved Kira more than her own parents, but her attitude had changed after the birth of the baby. Kira was in the delivery room with her when they took the screaming infant from her body. Elle had no desire to see the baby. After all, she was giving it up to the state. Kira wanted to see the child, wanted to look at Martel's baby. Elle tried repeatedly to confess that the baby was not Martel's, but she wouldn't listen. The moment Kira's eyes settled on the baby, she beheld a curious sight. The child had bright red hair and emerald green eyes. There was no one in the family with red hair or green eyes. The child didn't even look like Martel or Elle. Somehow, that angered Kira even more and she began cursing at her cousin, screaming at her. It seemed that Kira was angry because Elle had broken some sacred plan of hers to ruin Martel's life. Elle, exhausted and crying, tried to explain the situation, but Kira wasn't listening. At that point, a look came into Kira's eyes, one that Elle had never seen. Kira was actually close to killing someone, and had probably targeted the baby. Her hand had nearly reached for a scalpel. At that moment, Elle began to scream for the nurses to get Kira out. After that day, she hadn't had much to do with her cousin. However, Kira tried to keep in close touch, but their communication was mainly in letters and emails. If they spoke on the phone, the conversations were brief and perfunctory. She couldn't quite get the image of Kira's murderous gaze out of her mind and she didn't doubt for one second that if she hadn't spoken up, someone would have died that day. Of course, when she had heard of the accident just outside D.C., she had grieved in her own special way. After all, Kira had been close to her, but she refused to attend the memorial service.
Shrugging away the memories for the time being, Elle parked her car in her designated slot and made her way toward her office in the Pentagon. Today she faced several staff meetings and wasn't looking forward to any of it. She made her way through the throngs of other employees as she drew nearer to her office. It was actually at the end of the hall, but she didn't mind. She had more privacy and thinking space. Her job function was such that she didn't require an office mate and on days like these, she was profoundly grateful. As she entered her office, she took note of the stack of mail awaiting her. She would go through it later. Reading the mail was her greatest annoyance and she put it off as long as possible. She took her purse and dug around until she found her cell phone. Elle groaned aloud when she realized that she had forgotten to turn the damn thing on. No sooner had she lain the stupid thing down that it rang. Her Caller ID had the number as 'unknown.' She came close to ignoring it, and later, she would wish she had.
Sighing, Elle punched a button and put the phone up to her ear. "Hello?"
"I called you on this phone because I know it's your work cell and it's scrambled," Kira's voice said from beyond the grave.
"What the hell," Elle demanded. "Kira? You're…you're dead!"
She laughed heartily at that. "No, actually I'm not. I got out and I lived. I had to get my face fixed, of course. I look completely different now; no one would ever recognize me, including you. I know we haven't really spoken in several years, but I wanted to call because I miss you."
"What do you intend to do, Kira," Elle asked, terribly afraid of the answer. "You're still not stalking Chase Martel, are you?" Of course she is, stupid. She hates Martel more than she hates anyone, including that red-haired baby.
"We'll see, Ellen. Later."
For thirty minutes or more, Ellen stared down at her cell phone after Kira hung up in her ear. She had orchestrated some type of escape from the van. How was that possible? She had seen pictures of the wreckage and didn't know how anyone could survive that. All the bodies had been accounted for. Where in the hell had the extra body come from? No one else had been on that trip. The feds ensured that, because they knew Kira was a smart cookie and could pretty much do whatever the hell she wanted without much fuss or muss. Ellen didn't exactly know what to do. She didn't want to associate herself with another criminal, but if she remained silent, Martel might die. As much as he had hurt her, she didn't want him to die. She didn't want anyone to die.
* * *
The family of Lois Erby grieved her loss, now almost nine months in the past. When she first disappeared, they figured that she and her husband, Rick, had gotten into a marital spat and had left to chill out. However, when she didn't return that night or the next day, they became worried. They reported her missing, but the police wouldn't do anything for forty-eight hours. They waited the agonizing two days, conducting their own searches. Lois never turned up. Coupled with Lois' loss, the family was also hit hard by the horribly tragic death of her husband. The poor man had been burned beyond recognition in a bus accident. They knew if they found Lois alive, her heart would immediately stop beating when she heard what happened to Rick. However, Lois never heard the news, because she never turned up. After eight long months, the family gave up totally. They were certain she would never return alive. The family wanted to know what happened to Lois, but they feared they would never find out the real story.
* * *
Larkin inserted her key into the lock and creaked open the door. It was dark inside, but she knew he was home. His keys were lying on the small table by the door. Sighing tiredly, she dropped her suitcases and stretched her frame. Her arms were heavy with exhaustion and she felt as if they'd fall off at any second. Quietly, she moved through the apartment and went into the bedroom. She found him in bed asleep, on his stomach, with his arms wrapped tightly around his pillow. Apparently, he hadn't heard her entering. Good. She wanted to get into bed with him, but first she had to relieve her queasy stomach before she made a mess on the pristine carpet. A little while later, as she washed her face at the sink, she couldn't help but wonder if getting in bed with him was such a good idea. After all, he might catch whatever weird illness that had been assaulting her for the last month. She stuck her head through the doorway to make sure that her gagging hadn't awakened Donovan. It hadn't. Excellent. Too tired to climb into bed with him buck naked [she had no energy to make love to him tonight], she dug out her tee shirt and shorts and hurriedly dressed in them.
When she approached the empty side of the bed, she noticed that he was lying as far away from it as possible. Had he ever done that before? She was tempted to slide into bed beside him, but something about his posture bothered her. Larkin climbed onto the bed and crossed her legs in front of her. The tattoo on his shoulder blade was visible in the dark and he had told her what it meant. However, he had also said he had wanted to remove it. He had explained that it was done to him after one of his first missions with the CIA. Donovan had claimed he had been a stupid rookie who thought he knew everything. He had had the tattoo done because he was full of himself. Two weeks after his big mission, he'd gotten shot because of his idiotic cockiness. He had explained that he had grown up a little after that. Pushing those thoughts aside, Larkin carefully watched the movement of his breathing. How she had longed for him when he wasn't with her. She had simply come early because she couldn't take it anymore, and the urgency in his voice on the phone was something she would never ignore no matter how hard he asked her to do so. Giving up on the staring game for the moment, she stretched out on the bed beside him and leaned over his back.
Donovan was in a deep sleep state and when he felt movement and the light touches, he thought he was dreaming. However, the pressure grew more urgent and real. In a span that might have lasted a nanosecond, he whipped his body around and reached out for the person touching him, knowing that it was Devere again. If the lights were on, his eyes would have shown a cold, blank look. It was a mode he slipped into very, very rarely. It was a look Paige had seen before. The moment he heard the startled gasp, he settled a little and loosened his grip. Selena? This had to be a dream. It had to be, but her skin felt so real beneath his hands. For a time, he had totally forgotten what Bailey Devere had done to him. He simply wanted to focus on Larkin and his love for her. He reached for her and kissed her hard and deeply. His kiss was as surprising to Larkin as his behavior beforehand. However, she responded and plunged her hands into his hair and held him close to her. He desperately wanted to press forward, but first he had to talk to her, to tell her what happened. He knew that she would leave him, but he couldn't hide it from her. He couldn't hide anything from her.
Donovan broke the kiss. Before he said anything about Devere, there was a question lingering within him. "Why are you here," he asked.
"Not exactly what I wanted to hear," she said with a little smile, "but since you asked, I'll tell you. That phone call, Frank, I couldn't ignore it. Whatever is going on, I need to know. I want to help you if I can. I just made the move two weeks early, no big deal. I'll have a short vacation before hitting the new job." She searched his face in the dark. He looked utterly devastated. She laid her hand on his cheek. "Please, Frank, talk to me. You're scaring the shit out of me."
God. How am I going to do this? How am I going to tell her? "The Devere woman from down the hall, she came to me on Saturday night. I was drinking because I was depressed, I missed you, and I got messed up. She showed up with a bottle of red wine to pay me back for helping her evade a mugger. I think she put something in the wine, because she tried to kiss me, but I pushed her away. However, I wound up passing out. When I woke up the next day, I remembered nothing, but she…" Say it, spit it out. Tell her. You see the look in her eyes. She already knows what you're going to say. Don't wimp out now. Maybe she'll give you another chance. She wouldn't. "She was in bed with me."
Larkin couldn't quite believe what she heard. She tried to take his words apart to understand each one. He got drunk and fucked another woman. She hadn't really heard the words 'I think she put something in the wine.' She heard and understood nothing else. To her broken heart, it sounded like a shoddy excuse. It hurt, it hurt incredibly, and for a moment, a brief moment she finally understood what was going through Paige's mind when he told her about their sleeping together. At first, she couldn't vocalize, she was entirely too shocked to say a word. She moved away from him. She didn't want him to touch her; she didn't want to touch him. "You…you fucked her," she said in a stunned voice, more to herself than to him. "You took her to your bed and fucked her."
"Selena," he began slowly, aching to take her into his arms. "I…I didn't…"
"No," she bit out. "Don't you dare say you didn't mean it or didn't do it. I don't care if you were drunk, that's no excuse, and it's fucking lame. Goddamn it, you really have that cheating thing down pat, don't you? So what was it, Frank? What made you do it? What did I do?"
Her words cut him more effectively than the sharpest of knives. They bit into his heart and chewed it up. "Selena, you've done nothing wrong. You've loved me and given me your heart, but I didn't do it. I didn't fuck her. I didn't."
She had just gotten here, but now she wanted to leave. To get…away. Her stomach ached miserably. She had come to know the feeling well. She was about to throw up again. Donovan watched as she ripped away from the bed and ran into the bathroom. He heard her getting sick and he didn't hesitate to go to her. She had locked the door behind her. With the gagging noises came a heavy flood of tears. He hated himself right then, hated himself more and more as each of her teardrops fell.
"Selena? Please…"
Larkin swung the door open and shoved her way past the wall of his body. She struggled into a pair of jeans and didn't bother with a coat. She made her way out of the bedroom and into the living room. Donovan was right on her heels. She stopped and turned toward him abruptly. Without a thought, without a breath, she kicked out, aiming for his groin, but only managed to make contact with his stomach. It didn't matter; the blow knocked the wind out of him and brought him to his knees. He didn't see her grabbing his car keys. She wanted to say something more, to scream at him, but she couldn't. She was afraid that if she opened her mouth, she would vomit. Larkin left his apartment and slammed the door behind her.
It took a few minutes for Donovan to recover from the kick in the stomach, and when he stood, he immediately noticed that she had taken his car keys. Dear God. How the hell could he fix this? He needed a car, needed to find her. In her condition, she shouldn't be driving. Where the hell could he get a car?
Selena Jane Larkin had no idea where she driving, hadn't given one thought as to where she would go, but she knew for a moment that she had to get away from Frank Donovan while she could still salvage some of her sanity. She had been so angry with him and she was aware that she had hurt him as much as he had hurt her. Was his explanation plausible? Believable? He loves you, Jane. You know this. What if he's telling the truth? He was certain he'd told Paige he loved her as well. Yes, Jane, but he didn't. Not really. Don't you recall the little argument you had with him the first night he made love to you? Oh God, it was too much. Her mood was out of kilter again and she had to pull over before she ran off the road. She began to sob uncontrollably and her stomach began to churn again. I should puke in the bastard's car. She sat back in the car seat and rolled down the window. The night air was very crisp and cold. It settled her stomach a little and she sighed in relief. Was she calm enough to go back to Donovan now and perhaps listen to him? She looked up suddenly as she noticed a set of headlights coming up behind her. Frank? How would he know where to find her? She was just about ready to pull back into traffic when she noticed the car zooming toward her. They're coming for me, and… She didn't have time to complete her thought as the car barreled into the rear of the Lexus.
* * *
Donovan wound up snagging Alex's car and he drove around for an hour or more, but couldn't see his black Lexus anywhere. Of course, his car wasn't the only one like it in the city, and it would be difficult to find. He was a little irritated because Alex didn't have a radio inside with a police band. He turned around at an intersection and started his trip again, this time taking a direct trajectory from his apartment building. Larkin didn't know much about Chicago, so hopefully she hadn't strayed far. He drove for a few miles more and was almost ready to turn around, but the far off scream of sirens disturbed him. No. It's not her. You're panicking. Despite that thought, he drove toward the noise and as he drew closer and closer, he saw a horrifying scene unfolding before him. Several police cruisers, fire trucks, and an ambulance were gathered around an accident. He recognized the funky device the firefighters had. It was the Jaws of Life. He felt an incredible lurch in the pit of his stomach. He knew it was she, but he didn't want to believe it. He stopped the car abruptly, threw it in park, and didn't bother shutting the engine down. He saw what had once been his car. It was crumpled up as if it were a sheet of black construction paper. He saw a stretcher and several different people surrounding it. His heart completely stopped and he was totally incapacitated. He couldn't move, his brain was frozen. Donovan remained in this state no longer than five or ten seconds, but it felt like hours. Without a thought toward the police, the medical personnel, or the firefighters, he began shoving his way through the crowd. He prayed he would not see his Selena strapped down on that stretcher. However, his prayer was not answered.
He felt hands holding him back, heard commands of various authority figures and threats of restraint, but he wasn't listening, he couldn't listen. She was laid out on the stretcher, cuts littering her face, her blood flowing freely. Her eyes were closed, but he didn't know if she were alive or dead. He heard words being whispered around him, but he felt detached. He picked up scraps of words and conversations here and there: 'hit and run,' 'rear ended,' roll over,' 'no witnesses.' After that, he finally found his voice, strength, and footing. He pulled away from the hands holding him back, shouting that he was a federal agent and for them to back the fuck off. He made it to the side of the stretcher, but no one would allow him to touch her. When the medics loaded her into the ambulance, he entered with her. As he gazed upon her face, so still, the guilt began to eat him alive. What if she doesn't make it? Your last memory of her will be telling her a strange woman was in bed with you. Donovan was unaware of what was going on around him, his sole focus was his Selena, and he couldn't tear his eyes off her face. As soon as they made it to the hospital, she was immediately rushed into triage and Donovan was shoved back where he was forced to stay. He wanted to see her, hold her, and erase the pain he had caused her.
* * *
"Who was it in that fucking car," a voice roared. "What the fuck do you mean? You're a goddamn idiot!" She fumed and sputtered. "You need to watch your ass from now on, honey, because I know people who will be glad to blow you away."
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To be continued…