Chapter 12
After hanging up the phone, Dorothy stared at it for a moment as she replayed in her mind the short conversation with Quatre. His distress was understandable, especially since she hadn't called him to tell him that Jamila was safe with her. Dorothy had been planning to call him after Jamila was sleeping, but she hadn't gotten a chance. When the phone had rung, Dorothy was afraid it would awaken the little girl lying on her bed, and so she cut the conversation with Quatre short. His tone when he told he that he wanted his daughter back that night sounded suspiciously distrustful. For what reason would he have not to trust her with Jamila? She adored his daughter and wouldn't do anything to harm her. On the contrary, she had even checked the front hall closet for the gun she had stored away after her return from Switzerland. She made sure it was loaded and ready just in case an opportunist got past the front gate security.
Lying down on the bed, Dorothy watched Jamila sleep, curled up clutching a teddy bear that Dorothy had fished out of the closet of the former nursery. At first she hadn't wanted to open that closet, having stored away the items that she ultimately did not need. She should have gotten rid of everything inside the closet long ago, but now she was glad she hadn't because Jamila had been delighted to have the bear. She had settled much easier on Dorothy's bed with the teddy bear to soothe her. Dorothy suspected that the little girl needed something to cling to because of the turmoil in her life. The angel had served that purpose until Sadirah had destroyed it, and now Jamila had the teddy bear. Dorothy was glad that it was being put to good use after being locked away in a dark closet for so many years.
Dorothy reached out to touch Jamila's hair, smoothing it back from her face. The swelling on her cheek had subsided, but it was dark and would leave an ugly bruise. When Quatre saw it, he would understand why Dorothy had kept Jamila with her for the night instead of bringing her back immediately. Dorothy suspected that Sadirah's violent behavior was worse on this occasion than her other episodes of abuse, prompting Jamila to run away. She knew why the nannies were being dismissed, and Quatre would know as well. The women had probably tried to protect Jamila. After this day, Sadirah would not be able to hurt Jamila again. Dorothy guessed that Quatre would seek some psychological help for his wife and keep his daughter from her until she received it. But Dorothy thought of the gun in the hall and what good use it could be put to. Although it gave Dorothy some satisfaction to fantasize about putting a bullet in Sadirah Barak, she would never wish to cause the kind of pain that the death of her mother would give Jamila,
One arm around Jamila, Dorothy closed her eyes and started to doze. She was dreaming of skipping on a beach, a small hand in her own, and she realized that it belonged to Jamila. The girl was laughing and swinging her arms as she kicked on the water on the shoreline. Looking around, Dorothy saw Quatre watching them with a smile as he stood on the verandah of the beach house in Barbados. In her dream, she settled in the sand by the shore where Jamila began to dig and they began construction of a castle together. She was enjoying her dream so much that at she first refused to acknowledge that the security buzzer was sounding. She moaned and turned away from the sound, then she felt herself being pushed.
"Miss Dorothy, what is that noise?"
Dorothy opened her eyes to see the sleepy Jamila hovering over her, still clutching the teddy bear. Shaking her head, she left the bed. "Don't worry. Lie back down."
The buzzing was insistent, so Dorothy guessed that Quatre had come for his daughter. When she was sure that Jamila was settled and assured her that she merely had a visitor, Dorothy trudged down the steps and headed to the door. She was exhausted and unhappy to be drawn away from her dream. She remembered what Quatre had once said about dreams and not returning to them, and she knew it was true. She had tried to re-capture what she had with Quatre in Barbados these last few days, but that had been doomed to failure as well. He was married with a child he could not abandon to be with her, and if he did, Dorothy didn't think she could forgive him for leaving Jamila with Sadirah. The best thing to do would be to end the affair and try to go on with her life.
She pressed the button to the security system to open the gate, then after running her hand through her mussed hair, she waited until he rang the doorbell before opening it.
The words to scold him for not trusting him died on her lips when she found herself face-to-face with Randolph Morrison. She immediately tried to shut the door, but he shoved it open, and she stumbled back from him, almost crashing into the wall.
"My dear Dorothy, that was surprisingly foolish of you!" He slammed the door behind him. "How unlike you! Where you expecting someone else? Quatre Winner, perhaps?"
Her first instinct was try to take control of the situation by demanding an explanation, but the wild look in his eyes told her that Morrison was beyond any kind of reasoning. He was standing between her and the closet where she stored her gun. Dorothy almost swore aloud, thinking that she had just had the gun in her hand not more than an hour ago.
He seized her arm and dragged her to the couch, throwing her down on it. "I didn't actually think you would let me in! But now that you have, there are some things we have to discuss."
Dorothy tried to remain calm, but she could see that he was trembling with rage as he stood over her, so she knew that he might snap completely any moment. "Whatever you have to say, do it and get out!"
He raised his hand and swiped out to slap her face, but Dorothy was ready for that reaction. She ducked under his hand and tried to lunge past him, but he snaked out his arm and caught her around the waist. Dorothy struggled against him, even after he managed to strike her with his closed fist, until he knocked her on the floor and straddled her, pinning down her arms with his legs and holding her still with his weight.
Dorothy could taste blood in her mouth, and by his sickening smile, she knew he was enjoying his triumph over her.
"I never knew you were so feisty, Dorothy! Is this the side you show Winner?" He chuckled as he reached for a handful of her hair and jerked hard. When she winced from the pain, he cackled with laughter. "Who is in control now, Dorothy?"
When she didn't answer, he slammed her head back against the floor. The impact left her in a daze for a moment, but she could still hear his insane laughter.
"Now that I have your attention, my dear, I believe that we were about to discuss business."
She focused on his face although her head was aching and she was feeling nauseous. "What do you want?"
"Unfortunately, you are going to meet with an untimely accident tonight. Well, actually not an accident, but rather a brutal end. One of your Romefeller pals stopped by tonight, and unsuspecting, you let him in to talk about old times. But he had something else in mind, a little revenge for your betrayal."
Dorothy tried to buck him off, but he had her tightly pinned to the floor. "You have completely lost your mind! No one will believe that!"
He shrugged. "Who do you think will care? Winner? Do you think he will want the scandal of forcing an investigation? Beside, he could be a suspect in your death." Morrison looked thoughtful for a moment. "I like that idea much better. If I could frame him for your murder, then his lovely young wife will be left alone to administer to the fortune that little girl will inherit."
"You are insane! Quatre Winner isn't a murderer!" Dorothy tried to move again, earning a club on the side of her head with his fist. She realized that attempting to escape at this point wasn't getting her anywhere and he might knock her completely unconscious. The gun was only ten feet away, but she couldn't move.
"Everyone knows how much he adores his daughter. Faced with losing her when his wife leaves him or ridding himself of his whore, I think we know which he would chose." Morrison wasn't even looking at her as he stared at some point with a self-congratulatory smile.
"Is that what this is about?" she asked, trying to keep her voice calm although she was starting to feel panic. Morrison wouldn't be satisfied with anything short of her death. "Do you really think you can seduce Sadirah Barak?"
His smile faded, and Dorothy guessed that he had already tried and failed. "I have developed a friendship with her, and that might logically lead to something deeper."
Dorothy would have laughed at his pathetic reasoning if she weren't so alarmed by his insanity. "So you are going to kill me because I took back the money you stole from me?"
"My dear, the amount of money I took from you was nothing to your accounts. When you think of it, the Earth Sphere United Nation should have confiscated the Dermail fortune anyway after how it was accrued."
"Why did you use my money to finance Mahmad Al-Jazar?" she demanded. "What does any of this have to do with him? Why do you care what happens on L4?"
"That wasn't my idea. I don't really understand his reasons for doing so, but Hassan Barak contacted me several months ago when he saw a picture of us in the society pages of a newspaper. I was quite flattered that a man of his importance would invest in my firm, but he wanted our business to remain between just the two of us. The money he was paying me in commissions was enough to ensure my silence."
"What does that have to do with Al-Jazar?"
"Barak paid me to siphon from your fund."
"So you had no compunction about stealing from me to hand over the Al-Jazar?"
"Jazar wasn't really getting the money," he told her with a smirk. "The money was being dumped into an account with his name, but the only man with access to it was Quatre Raberba Winner."
"That isn't true!" And yet, even as she cried out the words, she knew it was a very real possibility. Quatre had known about the account all along. Had he used the knowledge to drive a wedge between her and Randolph Morrison? Tears burned her eyes as she realized that Quatre could have been manipulating her just as he had in Barbados.
"You see, Winner was covering all the bases, so to speak," continued Morrison. "He learned a very valuable lesson when his peace-loving father lost his life. Using your fortune, he has backed Al-Jazar and even constructed a mobile doll manufacturing facility with plans obtained from the files of your family."
Dorothy closed her eyes to the tears and shook her head. It couldn't be true!
"With everything in your name, he doesn't have to worry about any sanctions from the Earth Sphere United Nation. Nor would he receive any fallout if Al-Jazar is overthrown. Who wouldn't believe that the last rat of Romefeller would support an armed conflict, especially when she had so much to gain?"
She tried not to believe him, but Heero had warned her of the possibility that Quatre might not be as innocent as he portrayed himself. What proof had she gotten from him that he wasn't involved in the facility on X7350? He had told her what she wanted to hear and her heart had blocked her head from questioning him.
"So how does it feel, Dorothy, to know that Quatre Winner was screwing you in more ways than just the one? One of his own men tried to kill you, and he cleverly made it look as though I was involved. Fortunately, the Preventers were able to trace the money placed in my account. It came from Quatre Raberba Winner."
Dorothy didn't want to believe anything he said, but she felt as if she were drowning in a sea of doubt. Why should she trust Quatre? He had used her and tossed her aside five years ago. Everything that Morrison had told her made frightening sense. And yet Dorothy couldn't ignore the warning from her heart. Quatre would not do these things to her! She loved him, and she knew, without his saying the words to her that he loved her too.
"It's not true," she said calmly.
Morrison sighed. "You are a bigger fool than I thought, Dorothy." He put his hands around her neck. "For some reason I can see Winner strangling you. He doesn't seem the type to make a mess with a gun."
Dorothy struggled against the pressure of his hands, but he had her securely pinned to the floor. As her body started to struggle on its own against the lack of oxygen, she could barely hear Morrison's laughter through the strange rushing sound through her ears. This was how it felt to die?
As if from far away, she heard Jamila's scream. "Miss Dorothy!"
Morrison was momentarily startled, but it was enough time for Dorothy to use the adrenaline her body had built up. She heaved him off, then scrambled to the closet. Yanking open the door, she fumbled for a moment and managed to get the gun in her hands just as Morrison reached her.
Spinning around, gasping for breath, she aimed the gun at him.
He took a step back, and Dorothy was aware that he was between her and Jamila. Although she was afraid for Jamila's safety, Dorothy knew she couldn't show Morrison any weakness. "My gun is loaded, and you surely know that I know how to use it." He stared at the barrel of the pistol with wide eyes. She waved the gun. "Get over there." She was directing him further away from Jamila.
"I'm scared," whimpered Jamila as she started to creep forward.
Morrison glanced at the girl, then back at Dorothy. "What are you doing with Winner's brat?"
"Shut up!" She cocked her head in the direction she wanted him to move. "Unless you want me to end this right here and now, I suggest that you step aside."
"You'd never shoot me in front of the girl," said Morrison with a confident smirk. He took a step toward her.
Regretting the necessity, Dorothy aimed and fired, sending a bullet skimming across his shoulder. Jamila shrieked in terror and burst into tears, and Morrison stumbled back, blood oozing from the hole she had made in his designer sport coat. The bullet lodged in the wall a safe distance from Jamila.
"Do you still think I won't shoot you?" Dorothy coolly raised a brow, although she was far from feeling composed with Jamila sobbing hysterically.
Morrison moved in the direction that she indicated, his hand pressed to his wound to stop the flow of blood. "You bitch! You think this is over?"
Dorothy reached behind her to open the door. "I do, Randolph. Get out of my house now!"
He started toward the door, but he suddenly stopped, a triumphant smile on his face as he looked past her.
As Dorothy turned her head, she heard Jamila cry out, "Grandpapa!"
For a moment she looked into the dark, chilling eyes of Hassan Barak, then he raised a gun and slammed down hard on the side of her head. Before she lost consciousness, she heard Morrison laughing and Jamila screaming.
For many days Dorothy went through life in a daze. While before she had left her room in the mansion to walk in the extensive grounds or take her meal in the formal dining hall, she now remained curled in a ball hugging her pillow into which she often muffled her sobs. At first she refused to believe the truth, but she dared not seek a doctor's second opinion for fear of the potential scandal. She had to accept the fact that she was carrying Quatre Winner's child.
Initially she had considered only two options. The first, to end the pregnancy before it went any further, was far too repugnant to Dorothy. While she didn't condemn other women who might do so, she could never live with her conscience afterward. The second option was to give up the child for adoption, which meant going through with the pregnancy and finding some means of relinquishing the child to a couple that could raise it in a loving home. She would not be able to hide her condition from the staff for much longer, so she knew that she would have to leave for an extended period of time.
Having made the decision to give up the baby, Dorothy tried not to imagine the child that she and Quatre had created. Instead she researched the adoption process. She would have to contact an agency, either a public or private agency, but Dorothy couldn't imagine speaking to a stranger about her problem sitting in an office no matter how comfortable. A lawyer would be able to arrange a private adoption. Dorothy knew several lawyers, who knew other lawyers, and her distrust of them led her to the conclusion that any adoption arranged with a lawyer as intermediary would expose her to predicament to far too many people.
That left her with one course of action. Although she had often ignored the personal advertisements, Dorothy now scanned them to find a couple who would take her baby. Many of them offered exorbitant sums of money for a woman who would help them to realize their dream of having a family, so she would not have to worry that her child would not have a comfortable life.
Deciding on one ad, she tried to call the number that was listed several times, but each time she ended up in tears. Dorothy dismissed her emotional outburst as a side effect of being pregnant. She could not possibly want to raise a child on her own! Yet she started to feel yearnings of motherhood probably due to her hormonal imbalance. The only mother she had ever known was no role model for her. Dorothy had wanted her mother to love her so much that when she didn't, Dorothy thought the fault was her own. She might have gone on for the rest of her life believing herself to have some flaw that made her incapable of earning the love of another had she not gone to Barbados. Even if he ultimately rejected her, for a few glorious days, Quatre Winner made her feel as if she were worthy of his love.
As she walked in the dark, dreary halls of the Dermail Mansion, Dorothy relived memories of her childhood under this roof. Other children might have memories of playing games with siblings or friends or even kind nannies who took their roles as surrogate mother seriously enough to provide the love that might be missing. Dorothy only remembered the constant discussion of war, the clang of steel in the fitness room as her father practiced his favorite activity.
Standing now in the huge room with its vaulted ceilings and walls decorated with crossed swords, Dorothy had a memory of her father fencing with her grandfather. The nanny had reluctantly allowed her to stop in after a riding lesson when she heard the noise as they walked past. Dorothy couldn't have been more than six, and she had watched the two men fight in awe. When it had ended with her father disarming the older man, Dorothy had clapped and cheered. Her grandfather had grunted and complained about his blade, while her father came to Dorothy and handed her the sword he had used. She could barely lift it with both her hands.
"You're a Catalonia, too, little Dorothy. Remember that, and make me proud."
Dorothy now looked at the crossed swords, and she felt disgust at the lengths she had gone through to make him proud and he had not once acknowledged her before his death. Dorothy wouldn't know what to do with a child.
With new determination, she called the number in the newspaper and made arrangements to meet with the couple that lived several hours away. The chauffeur didn't make any comment the day that she chose to take one of the sedans for a drive. Dorothy often wondered what the servants were thinking, but she was actually afraid to find out. Their silent stares often unnerved her.
She drove to a car rental agency and rented a different car because she didn't want any connection made to her. Then she shopped at a mall in a city between her home and the city where she would be meeting the couple at their home. There she purchased some comfortable, casual clothing from a discount store, and she changed in the restroom where she applied makeup a little too heavily in order to alter her appearance. If she weren't so afraid of being recognized, Dorothy would find the lengths she went to hide her identity amusing.
The couple lived in the best part of the mid-sized town. As Dorothy pulled to a stop in front of the large house, she realized that she had never been in such a dwelling. She had spent all her life going from mansions, palaces and hotels. The way these people lived was completely foreign to her. Yet as she walked up the sidewalk which was flanked on either side by flowers, she thought the house appeared to be cozy. A child would enjoy running in their large yard, and she noticed a playground set around the back of the house. There were children playing in the yards behind the other houses, and she could hear the friendly chatter of neighbors who only paused to look at her before resuming their conversations.
Even before she rang the doorbell, the door flung open and both the man and woman stood before her. Their faces were beaming with what Dorothy could only describe as joy. At least a dozen years older than her, the woman was petite and blonde while the husband was tall and well proportioned with light brown hair. They appeared to be good people.
"You must be the young woman who called. "The man held out his hand. "I am Marcus Winston, and this is my wife, Susan."
Dorothy clasped his hand. His handshake was warm and firm. "I am pleased to meet you."
"Do come in." Susan Winston stepped aside, and Dorothy entered their home. The foyer was small and opened directly into a living area that resembled a salon, but with furniture that actually looked comfortable instead of the spindly legged sofas and chairs that passed for furniture at the Dermail Mansion.
As Mr. Winston took Dorothy's coat to hang in the foyer closet, his wife escorted Dorothy to a comfortable chair.
"Would you like some coffee or some other refreshment?" he asked when he joined them.
"A glass of water." Dorothy couldn't help but look around the room as he left. The main area of their house was smaller than her own bedchamber, but it was cozy and inviting. She immediately found herself relaxing although she was very nervous.
"We didn't have much of a chance to speak on the phone," Mrs. Winston said after Dorothy had taken a sip of the water that her husband had brought for her. "We are just so happy that you answered our ad."
"We have been running that ad for three years now," Mr. Winston told her as he joined his wife on the couch. He took her hand and squeezed it. "After Susan miscarried her third child, the doctor told us it would be unwise to try again."
"I had almost given up hope of ever having a child until your phone call," said Susan Winston, her eyes glistening with tears. Her husband gave her a hug. Dorothy felt uncomfortable in the face of their emotion. She didn't know what to say.
"As you can see, I am able to provide a good home for your child," Marcus Winston told her after a moment of silence. "I own a business consulting firm, and Susan does volunteer work so she would be able to devote her time to a child."
Dorothy was starting to feel queasy, so she took a deep breath to try to calm her nerves.
"I'm sure this is very overwhelming for you," Susan said to her as she reached out to pat the hands Dorothy didn't realize that she was wringing in her lap. "If you change your mind, I will understand."
"I hope that you do not mind me asking, but how does an attractive young woman like yourself find herself in this situation?" asked Marcus as tactfully as he could although his wife still gave him an exasperated glance.
Dorothy sighed. "I became involved with a man who didn't have a permanent relationship in mind."
"Something good can come of it," said Susan hopefully. She stood. "Would you like to see the rest of the house? We have had a nursery prepared for a long time, first in anticipation of our own child then in the hope that we could adopt."
"There are many children in orphanages who have lost parents during the war," Dorothy remarked. She didn't really know about them first-hand, but she had once read that there were many innocent victims of the war that needed homes.
"Marcus and I have been considering that option. When we received your phone call, we decided to wait."
The nursery was small, with a crib, a chest of drawers, and other baby furniture. The nursery at the Dermail Mansion was large enough to accommodate a side room where the nanny had a bedroom and her own sitting room. The wall of this nursery was pastel yellow with teddy bears and flowers. The nursery at the Dermail Mansion was paneled with dark mahogany.
"Are you feeling all right?" asked Susan with concern.
"I need a little air."
They walked out to the backyard, and Dorothy was surprised to see children playing on the equipment that the Winstons had bought for the children that they hoped to have. Susan explained that they enjoyed watching the neighborhood children, then added that her child would never lack for playmates. Dorothy began to feel a lump in her throat as she watched them, and barely heard Susan excuse herself to get some milk and cookies for the children.
Dorothy estimated that the six children from three different families playing on the large play area. Two older girls were talking as they pushed younger children on swings, and three other children were playing tag. One toddler was digging in the sand. The blond child that could hardly maintain his balance mesmerized Dorothy, and as she continued to watch, she felt her heart begin to beat faster and the lump in her throat grow.
Susan reappeared with the cookies and milk, calling the children who happily hurried to partake in the treat. Nobody showed any concern for the toddler who tried to keep up and ultimately fell face first into the grass and burst into tears. Without knowing why, Dorothy went to the little boy as Susan served the milk and cookies. When she reached him, she helped him up, then took a silk handkerchief from her pocket and gently wiped his chubby pink cheeks. He threw his arms around her to hug, then waddled toward the other children as fast as his chubby legs would take him.
Dorothy didn't realize she had started to cry until Susan took the handkerchief from her hands and dabbed at her tears. When she had finished, she looked first at the monogrammed square, then at Dorothy's face.
"I didn't really think you were desperate for the money we offered, since you didn't even ask about it. I'm quite sure, in fact, that you can probably provide a better home for your child than we can."
"I don't know what a home is," Dorothy admitted to her.
"It's the place that you make for the ones that you love," Susan told her kindly. "I don't know you, but I sense that you have a lot of love locked inside. I think you want to share it with your child but you are afraid."
"I can't have this baby," Dorothy confessed. "My life would be ruined."
"Your life as it is now would be ruined." Susan smiled at her as she helped Dorothy to stand. "You will just have to make a new life."
Dorothy felt guilty for raising the hopes of the couple and apologized to them, but Susan seemed to think it was a sign that they should do as Dorothy suggested and adopt children from the orphanages.
During the long drive back home, Dorothy's mind raced with many plans. She decided to invent a beau that she had met on her vacation, and she would pretend to carry on a long distance romance with him. The staff didn't need any details because she was going to dismiss them with a generous severance. Dorothy had no intention of raising a child in the Dermail shrine to war. She would move into a house like the one the Winstons lived in.
Upon returning to the mansion, she called some acquaintances to find employment for her staff. Fortunately, Relena Peacecraft offered to take the dozen servants for her own household because her duties required her to have a larger staff and Dorothy would be saving her the trouble of interviewing and hiring people. She tried to wheedle information out of Dorothy, and Dorothy hinted that she had met someone special, but she didn't give Relena any details either.
The staff expressed their dismay that they would no longer be working for her, but they were grateful for the extravagant severance pay that Dorothy gave them and the employment she had found for them. With that problem covered, Dorothy threw herself into the activity of finding a new place to live. After looking at dozens of houses, she found one on the east side of town that filled her requirements. Dorothy did hire a maid because she wasn't brave enough to attempt fending for herself, especially when she had a pregnancy to worry about.
Dorothy enjoyed decorating her new home, and she found herself imagining her child playing in the backyard or with the neighbor children. She even allowed herself to imagine what her child would look like. Dorothy would adore either the blond boy or girl.
One afternoon while she was in the middle of attempting to put up pale green wallpaper with rocking horses in the nursery, the ringing doorbell interrupted her.
When she peered through the peephole of the door, she was surprised to see Heero Yuy standing outside her door. She hadn't really had any contact with the former gundam pilot since the war, so she couldn't imagine what he would want of her. But she opened the door.
He had been looking around, and seeing her, he nodded. "Miss Catalonia, may I come in to talk with you?"
She stepped aside. "I'm not sure what we have to discuss." For an instant she was afraid that he may have had some contact with Quatre.
After she closed the door, he told her, "I am here on business. You know that I work for the Preventers."
"Actually, I didn't know that."
"Relena must have told you."
If she did, Dorothy must not have been paying attention. "What does that have to do with me?"
"There has been some indication that the remaining members of Romefeller have been gathering in Switzerland to plan an insurrection."
"I have nothing to do with that," she denied hotly. She couldn't believe that Heero Yuy had come to her home to accuse her of treason. The last thing she would do is be involved in anything dealing with war. She wanted a future free of violence for her child.
"I didn't think you did." Heero glanced around the house, one brow raised skeptically. "Do you mind if I sit down?"
"Can I get you something to drink?"
"A cold beer would be nice."
She returned with a chilled glass of wine after a search of the kitchen did not turn up any beer. "I don't have any beer." Dorothy made a mental note to add it to the shopping list for the maid. She might have other guests who might not be expecting the excellent vintage she was serving the Preventer agent.
He viewed the wine skeptically, then drained the glass before setting it aside. "I would never have come up with this hare-brained scheme, but Relena suggested it to my superior, Bob Morley."
"What scheme?"
Heero Yuy looked her in the eye. "I'm going to make very clear that I don't trust you, Dorothy Catalonia."
Quatre continued to pace the suite long after Sadirah had gone to bed. He didn't know how she could sleep when Jamila was not yet safely returned, but then she trusted her father to bring her back. The Preventer agents had all left except Heero Yuy, and his silence was unnerving as he sat on the couch watching him.
Finally, Heero spoke. "What the hell did you do to Dorothy Catalonia to make her go off the deep end like this?"
Quatre didn't like hearing Dorothy's behavior described like that. "Aren't you being a bit harsh?"
"You tell me. She kidnapped your daughter, didn't she?"
"I wouldn't call having the police escort Jamila to her house an actual kidnapping."
"The tone you used with her on the phone would suggest otherwise."
Quatre looked at Heero with a frown. "What was I supposed to think? The police took my daughter to her house after finding her lost, and she didn't bother to call me."
"Maybe she had a good reason."
He was about to argue when he remembered how disturbed she had been by Jamila's abuse. Dorothy had even confronted Sadirah about it, then tried to question Atifah. Recalling that Rashid was angry enough to forget his duties in order to bring the matter up to Sadirah, Quatre realized that Jamila must have been hurt badly by her mother. She had run away. That fact was telling.
Clenching his teeth, Quatre glanced at Heero and wished he would leave so that he could give Sadirah the beating she deserved whether it landed him in jail or not. He couldn't believe how foolish he had been to believe any innuendoes about Dorothy. His worry for Jamila had clouded his ability to reason.
"Are you going to tell me?" asked Heero with a raised brow.
"It is private."
Heero sighed as he looked at his watch. "It's taking your father-in-law a long time to bring your daughter back."
Quatre had the same thought. If there had been some trouble, wouldn't they know by now? "I should have sent Rashid with them."
"That would not have been a good idea. He should be responsible for your safety." He nodded in the direction that Sadirah had gone.
"You don't trust my wife?"
"I know a vindictive bitch when I see one. I've seen how she looks at you, and I hate to break the news to you, but the glow of love has worn off your marriage."
There had never been a glow of love on their marriage. Quatre didn't know why he was explaining to Heero, but he did. "She didn't want to marry me, but I forced her, thinking that I could make amends for what I did to her. I can't imagine how she felt having to leave that exclusive school in Switzerland after all that her father had to go through to get her accepted."
"I'm sure the lifestyle to which you have subjected her since then has made the shame so much worse," remarked Heero sarcastically.
He couldn't respond because Quatre had felt the same deep inside for quite some time. After four years of marriage, he had lost patience with Sadirah, and nothing was going to keep him from ending the sad farce, especially knowing what he did now about her mistreatment of their child. Nothing could convince him to stay with her.
Heero glanced at his watch again. "He should have called by now."
Although Heero had initially agreed with Barak when he told Quatre to remain behind, now Quatre was getting the feeling that Heero expected him to act. "If you think it's safe..."
"You'll be with me. Of course you'll be safe." Heero stood.
Quatre also stood. "I will inform Rashid of my decision to leave."
"Maybe you should tell your wife."
He didn't bother to knock on her door, but stepped into her bedroom. Sadirah was sleeping with a peaceful smile curving her lips. Wearing one of the negligees she must have purchased recently, she was obviously expecting him to visit and planned to use her entire arsenal to win him back. She must have heard him close the door, because by the time he reached the bed and sat on the edge, she had opened her eyes.
"Are you coming to bed?" she asked sleepily as she reached out to touch him. She stroked his hand for a moment before sliding her hand up his arm and around his neck.
"They haven't returned," he told her softly as he allowed her to pull his head close to hers. "Are you worried?"
"About Jamila? My father will take good care of her."
"Like you?" Before Sadirah could respond, he reached out and caught her slender neck in his hand, then shoved her back against the pillow. "I've spoken to Rashid. I'm sure you know what he told me." Disgusted that her wince of pain made him feel too much pleasure, he quickly released her and stepped away.
Sadirah coughed, then gasped in a breath. "I can't imagine what your spy told you." She rolled away to get out of the bed, but Quatre seized her arm and threw her back down.
Grasping her wrist so tightly that his own fingers ached from the effort, he dragged her close. "I believe that we discussed the consequences of your inattention to Jamila's care."
Sadirah managed to twist away from him with strength that surprised him. She quickly put distance between them, but Quatre had already decided to leave this confrontation for later so she had little to fear from him now. "Jamila had an accident! I told Rashid so, and I am telling you now. I did not hurt her! Why would I hurt my own child?"
Had her concern for Jamila always sounded so contrived? Why had he never noticed it before? "I am going with Heero Yuy to Dorothy Catalonia's home to bring Jamila back. And when I return, I will dictate the terms of our divorce. Have your things packed. You're going back to L4. Alone."
Her eyes met his, and Quatre saw what Heero had been talking about earlier. Sadirah didn't bother to hide her deep hatred. He should have been saddened that their relationship ended so bitterly when they still shared Jamila, but he was more disgusted to realize what a gullible idiot he had been for the last five years.
Turning on his heel, he headed to the door.
"Do you think you will end up with everything?" she snarled at his back. "Do you think I haven't prepared for this?"
Not responding, Quatre didn't even look back at her when he left. He never wanted to see Sadirah Barak again.
Rashid was waiting with Heero. Both men seemed to be waiting for some report, but Quatre didn't tell them what had happened with Sadirah. His concern now was for Jamila and for Dorothy. He had been too harsh with Dorothy on the phone, and had allowed Sadirah's father to convince him that she was a threat. After having told Barak that he was planning to divorce his daughter, he should have realized that he would have only his daughter's interests in mind. Thinking of the men that Barak had taken with him, Quatre was worried that they might use unnecessary force to take Jamila away from Dorothy.
They took Quatre's car, and despite the sparse traffic this time of the night, he was so distracted by his thoughts of the danger Dorothy might be in that he almost hit a car.
Heero glanced at him with a raised brow once he had gained control of the car again. "I'd like to get there in one piece."
Quatre kept his eyes on the road. "Are you worried about Miss Dorothy?"
"You should be."
He didn't need to hear Heero's ominous warning. "Why did you let me believe that Dorothy might be guilty of some crime?"
"Because I didn't have all the pieces of the puzzle. I still don't. I think the last piece is in Switzerland."
"You were with Dorothy in Switzerland," Quatre pointed out. "What do you know?"
"I had no reason to check up on her. She was my partner, not a suspect in anything. Dorothy didn't want to accept the mission at first, then she suddenly changed her mind. She performed her duties with efficiency, bringing it to a quick end. She kept giving me hints that she was involved with someone and expected him to return from space. Relena told me that she heard the same thing."
Quatre didn't believe for a moment that she had been hinting about him. She hadn't given him a chance to find out why she had left him in Barbados. Yet being with her these last few days convinced Quatre that her decision to leave him had been painful to her. Dorothy had told him in Barbados that she loved him. If that were true, he didn't understand how she could forget him so quickly to move on to another man when he knew he would never love another woman.
"This phantom lover never materialized," continued Heero. "She returned from Switzerland rather depressed, and Relena was sure she had a broken heart. We decided to let her work things out on her own, which she ultimately did."
That surely meant that Dorothy had become involved with another man after she left him. Quatre felt guilty for being jealous when he had, in the same amount of time, become a father, and a husband to another woman.
When he turned the car onto the quiet, residential neighborhood where Dorothy lived, he was alarmed to see police cars already on the street. After stopping the car, he immediately got out and hurried to the house. Sadirah's father was speaking to a police officer and he tried to hail him, but Quatre ignored him and pushed aside the officer that attempted to bar him from entering the house. He feared finding Dorothy lying on the floor, killed by his overzealous personal security, but the living room was empty and the police hadn't even come in.
Turning to go back, he saw Barak waiting for him at the door.
"We were too late," he told Quatre. "She had already taken Jamila and fled with her lover."
"Her lover?" he repeated, unwilling to believe what he had heard.
"The neighbors reported her letting in Randolph Morrison."
One of the police officers appeared behind Barak. "Mr. Barak, we have a few more questions."
As the two men disappeared outside, Quatre stared at the door, his thoughts jumbled, his heart feeling shredded. Before arriving here, he thought he had set aside his doubts. But hearing that Morrison had helped Dorothy leave with Jamila made them bubble to the surface again.
Heero stepped in, and he was frowning. "Dorothy apparently left with Randolph Morrison. They had Jamila with them."
Quatre covered his face with his hands again. He wanted this nightmare to end so that he could wake up hearing the sound of the sea, the calls of the gulls on the beach, and Dorothy's sleepy sighs in his ear as she slept beside him. What was happening now could not be real!
Running his hands through his hair, he opened his eyes, and he saw a hole in the wall. "What is that?" The small chunk of missing plaster was so obviously out of place that Quatre knew he would have noticed it on his other visits here.
As Heero stepped over to the wall and dug into it with a small pocket knife, Quatre noticed that here was some blood smeared on the doorknob. He thought of Morrison and his threats, of the attempted murder on Dorothy, and he knew in his heart that Dorothy would not have gone willingly with Randolph Morrison.
"A bullet," Heero announced as he opened his palm to show Quatre. "Fired from close range. I'll have ballistics analyze it immediately to determine the gun type."
Barak stepped back in the house. "The only thing we can do now is wait for her next move. I imagine that if Morrison is involved, it will include a demand for ransom."
"Dorothy doesn't need my money," Quatre said. A ransom demand from her would be ridiculous.
"Al-Jazar needs your money," Barak snapped with annoyance. He put his hands on Quatre's shoulders and looked him in the eye. "You have got to stop thinking of her as your lover! There is no such thing as a coincidence, Quatre! She didn't just happen to run into you in Barbados. She could have been working with people opposed to peace even that long ago."
Quatre shook his head. "I won't believe it."
Barak sighed and released him. "For many years I believed in your father and the peace he strove to maintain for our colony. He did everything he could to save his fortune from warmongering people, and I helped him. I would have done anything for him. When I refused to divulge the codes to release your father's assets to OZ, they took my family hostage and tortured them. I lost my wife as a result."
"I know that," said Quatre sadly. When OZ had taken control of the colony, Barak's wife had been taken into custody and held as hostages. Barak's wife hadn't been strong enough to survive the ordeal of living as a prisoner on a Winner resource satellite. Sadirah had been little older than a child, and she had never spoken of the experience to Quatre, but he knew that she must have suffered as a result of losing her mother.
"When I hear the name Dorothy Catalonia, I can think of only one thing," hissed Barak. "OZ." With that he turned and walked out.
Quatre stared after him for a moment, then he said to Heero, "Barak was never entrusted with any of the codes. He could not have helped his wife if he had wanted to."
Heero released a long sigh, then shaking his head said, "You're going to have to trust your instincts, Quatre. You've always been a damn good judge of character, your wife notwithstanding. But I don't believe that Dorothy would be involved in the level of deception he is accusing her of."
Quatre didn't believe it either. "There is only one thing left to do, and that is to wait for a ransom demand." Maybe then he would get some answers to his questions.
