Chapter Four
The sun woke her again.
She had lain awake most of the night, frightened to sleep, jerking awake every time she felt herself slip away. Pain and painkillers had eventually taken its toll and she had fallen into an exhausted sleep.
She rolled over in bed. Wincing as all of yesterdays aches and pains fought to lay their hands on her. The sun pounding through her window added to her headache. The room was hot and stuffy already. Pressing in around her, closing in...
Michelle walked across her room. She switched on the air conditioning and sat down waiting for the room to cool enough for her to think. Stuffy heat always made her feel sick and drowsy. She reached behind her and switched the air conditioning as high as it would go.
She sighed, feeling the room start to chill around her, the pressure on her head easing. She leaned back, resting her head against the wall.
She closed her eyes. Running through the incident in her mind. Making sure she had everything in its right place. Pretending that she was giving a briefing back at CTU.
Michelle opened her eyes and started to speak softly. Taking comfort from the sound of her voice. Pretending that Tony was there to help her put the pieces together.
"I saw the cars drive past me and I looked away. I heard something. Wait. Could I have heard the car skid or its brakes lock or something like that?"
She fell silent, thinking back. Replaying the incident.
"No. It defiantly didn't skid. Anyway, even if it did skid, how did it get thrown in the air like that? There's no way it was going fast enough."
She could almost picture Tony, encouraging her on. Encouraging her to think things through, no matter how painful it might end up.
"And then it blew up like that." She bit her lip, shaking her head. "There's no reason for that to happen. Even if the car had skidded or the something had locked up on it, that shouldn't have happened. Not with that force and not that suddenly."
"So where does that leave us, Michelle?" She could see Tony if she closed her eyes, half sitting, half leaning on her desk. "If the car didn't skid and the brakes didn't lock, and you know they didn't what does that leave us with?"
She sighed. She knew where this left them. She was just waiting, trying to put off saying it aloud.
"Somebody made it happen. Somebody blew the car up."
Michelle fell silent. Checking over her logic and the evidence again, wondering if there was something, anything she'd missed. Something, anything to explain what had happened. Something, anything, other than a terrorist bomb.
"There's nothing else, Michelle. You haven't missed anything. There's just nothing else. Somebody blew the car up."
She felt her headache start to slip away as she made her decision. She went for a shower, hoping that the cool water would help soothe away the rest of her aches and pains as quickly and as easily.
"Why are we doin' this Sheriff? It was just a crash, right?"
Ben Franklin shrugged, staring at the wreckage. Was that his imagination, or could he still see smoke, trickling from the blasted and melted cars. "I don't know what it was. Just go through it, follow procedure."
Bill, the forensic examiner, shook his head. "This is a fucking mess, Sheriff."
"I know."
"What am I looking for anyway?" He knelt next to the twisted remains of the Governor's car. "Cut brake lines or something like that?"
"I don't know." Ben shrugged again, playing with his sunglasses. "Anything that doesn't look like it fits."
"Like what?"
"I don't fuckin know, alright. Just anything...unusual. You find anythin' like that, let me know. I'll know what I'm looking for if I see it."
"Okay." He looked at the mess inside the car. "I tell you, Sheriff, this is a hell of a long way from heat exhaustion. What a goddamned mess." His voice shook at the end and he stood up, coughing. He lifted a bottle of water and took a long drink.
"You okay?"
He spat on the ground. "Yeah. Just never expected to see anything like this in Nixon." He stared back at the car, shaking his hand.
"You and me both." Ben put his sunglasses on and pulled his hat down as low as it would go. "Call me if you come up with anything." He nodded at the wreckage. "Cars like that just don't flip themselves."
"Will do, Sheriff."
His phone rang as he was watching them eat breakfast. He didn't take his eyes off them as he answered it. "Hello?"
"Hello Michael."
"What have you got for me."
"More information."
He saw them leave the café and he scrambled to his feet to follow them. "Go on."
"Its defiantly her."
"No shit." He laughed bitterly. "Yesterday proved that."
"The male is identified as Nicholas McKeurkan, age 25. Five years military experience. We don't have anything on him past of that. What happened yesterday?"
"Car bomb. The locals are chasing their tears. Listen, I think I should..."
"Do not contact them, Michael. I mean that. We need her to lead us to the rest of them."
She felt better out in the fresh air. It wasn't as oppressive, as thick as it had been in her hotel room.
It was still hot, though. The sun beating down unmercifully.
Michelle stopped where she had stood the previous day. The actual scene was closed off, a stream of yellow tape preventing anybody getting too close to it. The actual wreckage was gone, though.
"Taken away for examination." She looked at the road surface. "No skid marks." She grinned. "And no rain to wash them away either." She kept her voice low, not wanting the people around her to think she was crazy. She shook her head again, knowing she had crossed every possibility off her list.
She took a deep breath and walked back along the main street. Walking towards the Sheriff's office.
She didn't notice a man following her.
Who was she?
Why was she paying so much attention to the scene. He closed the gap on her, keeping her in sight. She wasn't a local, that was for sure.
So. A journalist?
Inspiration hit him hard.
A connection to one or both of them?
He pulled out his camera and took her photo as she hesitated on the main street. Then dialled a number on his phone. "Baillie, it's Michael again. I need another person identified."
"I'm looking for Sheriff Franklin." Michelle looked around the small station. "Is he here?"
"I'm sorry, ma'am, he's not. Can I pass a message on for you?" The young deputy looked pale and tired. She wondered if he was one of the ones she had seen drinking yesterday.
"Yes, if you could. I have information for him about the...about what happened yesterday."
The deputy wrote quickly on a piece of paper. "And your name is?"
"Michelle Dessler. He spoke to me yesterday. I just...has he left for the day?"
"He's just not here at the moment, Ms Dessler." He pointed at a number of small hard uncomfortable seats. "Do you want to wait on him? I don't know how long he'll be, though."
She looked at the seats and then around the small sweltering building. "No it's okay. If you could just pass that on, tell him that I called. He knows where I'm staying if he wants to get in touch with me."
Michelle turned and walked from the station. Back into the fresh air and the bright sunlight. She smiled as the sun beat down on her face.
She had done all she could.
"Jesus!" She grabbed his arm and pulled him off the main street. Glancing back over her shoulder, concerned. "Jesus. What the fuck is he doing here?"
Caught by her mood, he looked back over his shoulder as well. "Who? I don't see anybody."
"Just somebody I know from home. Shit." She ran her hands through her hair. "It might be alright. I don't think he saw me." She thought back, considering, then shook her head. "Doesn't matter anyway. We're just going to have to be more careful." She reached for a cigarette, using the familiar gestures as a means to calm herself down. "We may have to move things on a little."
"....Charles H McGarrity...."
"....Been killed...."
"....Holiday residence, near Pyramid Lake...."
"....His bodyguards and driver were also killed...."
"....Car crash...."
"....Rumours of suspicious circumstances, which his office has neither confirmed nor denied...."
It was late when he gotten back home.
The sun had long since set, the night cool and clear. He'd only intended to sit for a minute. Forget about this whole shit storm, and just relax.
She woke him with a kiss.
Ben stretched sleepily, pulling her closer to him. "Hey sweetheart."
"Hey. Why are you sleeping down here?"
"I got back late. Didn't want to wake you or Rose. Anyway I only meant to sit for a minute." He yawned, kissing her again. "How was she today?"
"Grouchy." Paige settled in her husbands arms. "She missed her daddy."
Ben managed to smile, stopping it just before it turned into another yawn. "Always nice to be missed." He fell silent, thinking.
"You're thinking about the Governor's accident aren't you?"
"I'm thinking it might not have been an accident. Some things just don't add up too well."
Paige cuddled closer to him, and he rested his chin on top of her head. "Like what?"
He laughed softly. "That's just it. I could be totally wrong, it could just be an accident. It just don't feel right. I told Bill to look for anything unusual in the wreckage."
"Then you've done all you can tonight." She climbed from his embrace and held her hand out. "Come to bed."
The sun woke her again.
She had lain awake most of the night, frightened to sleep, jerking awake every time she felt herself slip away. Pain and painkillers had eventually taken its toll and she had fallen into an exhausted sleep.
She rolled over in bed. Wincing as all of yesterdays aches and pains fought to lay their hands on her. The sun pounding through her window added to her headache. The room was hot and stuffy already. Pressing in around her, closing in...
Michelle walked across her room. She switched on the air conditioning and sat down waiting for the room to cool enough for her to think. Stuffy heat always made her feel sick and drowsy. She reached behind her and switched the air conditioning as high as it would go.
She sighed, feeling the room start to chill around her, the pressure on her head easing. She leaned back, resting her head against the wall.
She closed her eyes. Running through the incident in her mind. Making sure she had everything in its right place. Pretending that she was giving a briefing back at CTU.
Michelle opened her eyes and started to speak softly. Taking comfort from the sound of her voice. Pretending that Tony was there to help her put the pieces together.
"I saw the cars drive past me and I looked away. I heard something. Wait. Could I have heard the car skid or its brakes lock or something like that?"
She fell silent, thinking back. Replaying the incident.
"No. It defiantly didn't skid. Anyway, even if it did skid, how did it get thrown in the air like that? There's no way it was going fast enough."
She could almost picture Tony, encouraging her on. Encouraging her to think things through, no matter how painful it might end up.
"And then it blew up like that." She bit her lip, shaking her head. "There's no reason for that to happen. Even if the car had skidded or the something had locked up on it, that shouldn't have happened. Not with that force and not that suddenly."
"So where does that leave us, Michelle?" She could see Tony if she closed her eyes, half sitting, half leaning on her desk. "If the car didn't skid and the brakes didn't lock, and you know they didn't what does that leave us with?"
She sighed. She knew where this left them. She was just waiting, trying to put off saying it aloud.
"Somebody made it happen. Somebody blew the car up."
Michelle fell silent. Checking over her logic and the evidence again, wondering if there was something, anything she'd missed. Something, anything to explain what had happened. Something, anything, other than a terrorist bomb.
"There's nothing else, Michelle. You haven't missed anything. There's just nothing else. Somebody blew the car up."
She felt her headache start to slip away as she made her decision. She went for a shower, hoping that the cool water would help soothe away the rest of her aches and pains as quickly and as easily.
"Why are we doin' this Sheriff? It was just a crash, right?"
Ben Franklin shrugged, staring at the wreckage. Was that his imagination, or could he still see smoke, trickling from the blasted and melted cars. "I don't know what it was. Just go through it, follow procedure."
Bill, the forensic examiner, shook his head. "This is a fucking mess, Sheriff."
"I know."
"What am I looking for anyway?" He knelt next to the twisted remains of the Governor's car. "Cut brake lines or something like that?"
"I don't know." Ben shrugged again, playing with his sunglasses. "Anything that doesn't look like it fits."
"Like what?"
"I don't fuckin know, alright. Just anything...unusual. You find anythin' like that, let me know. I'll know what I'm looking for if I see it."
"Okay." He looked at the mess inside the car. "I tell you, Sheriff, this is a hell of a long way from heat exhaustion. What a goddamned mess." His voice shook at the end and he stood up, coughing. He lifted a bottle of water and took a long drink.
"You okay?"
He spat on the ground. "Yeah. Just never expected to see anything like this in Nixon." He stared back at the car, shaking his hand.
"You and me both." Ben put his sunglasses on and pulled his hat down as low as it would go. "Call me if you come up with anything." He nodded at the wreckage. "Cars like that just don't flip themselves."
"Will do, Sheriff."
His phone rang as he was watching them eat breakfast. He didn't take his eyes off them as he answered it. "Hello?"
"Hello Michael."
"What have you got for me."
"More information."
He saw them leave the café and he scrambled to his feet to follow them. "Go on."
"Its defiantly her."
"No shit." He laughed bitterly. "Yesterday proved that."
"The male is identified as Nicholas McKeurkan, age 25. Five years military experience. We don't have anything on him past of that. What happened yesterday?"
"Car bomb. The locals are chasing their tears. Listen, I think I should..."
"Do not contact them, Michael. I mean that. We need her to lead us to the rest of them."
She felt better out in the fresh air. It wasn't as oppressive, as thick as it had been in her hotel room.
It was still hot, though. The sun beating down unmercifully.
Michelle stopped where she had stood the previous day. The actual scene was closed off, a stream of yellow tape preventing anybody getting too close to it. The actual wreckage was gone, though.
"Taken away for examination." She looked at the road surface. "No skid marks." She grinned. "And no rain to wash them away either." She kept her voice low, not wanting the people around her to think she was crazy. She shook her head again, knowing she had crossed every possibility off her list.
She took a deep breath and walked back along the main street. Walking towards the Sheriff's office.
She didn't notice a man following her.
Who was she?
Why was she paying so much attention to the scene. He closed the gap on her, keeping her in sight. She wasn't a local, that was for sure.
So. A journalist?
Inspiration hit him hard.
A connection to one or both of them?
He pulled out his camera and took her photo as she hesitated on the main street. Then dialled a number on his phone. "Baillie, it's Michael again. I need another person identified."
"I'm looking for Sheriff Franklin." Michelle looked around the small station. "Is he here?"
"I'm sorry, ma'am, he's not. Can I pass a message on for you?" The young deputy looked pale and tired. She wondered if he was one of the ones she had seen drinking yesterday.
"Yes, if you could. I have information for him about the...about what happened yesterday."
The deputy wrote quickly on a piece of paper. "And your name is?"
"Michelle Dessler. He spoke to me yesterday. I just...has he left for the day?"
"He's just not here at the moment, Ms Dessler." He pointed at a number of small hard uncomfortable seats. "Do you want to wait on him? I don't know how long he'll be, though."
She looked at the seats and then around the small sweltering building. "No it's okay. If you could just pass that on, tell him that I called. He knows where I'm staying if he wants to get in touch with me."
Michelle turned and walked from the station. Back into the fresh air and the bright sunlight. She smiled as the sun beat down on her face.
She had done all she could.
"Jesus!" She grabbed his arm and pulled him off the main street. Glancing back over her shoulder, concerned. "Jesus. What the fuck is he doing here?"
Caught by her mood, he looked back over his shoulder as well. "Who? I don't see anybody."
"Just somebody I know from home. Shit." She ran her hands through her hair. "It might be alright. I don't think he saw me." She thought back, considering, then shook her head. "Doesn't matter anyway. We're just going to have to be more careful." She reached for a cigarette, using the familiar gestures as a means to calm herself down. "We may have to move things on a little."
"....Charles H McGarrity...."
"....Been killed...."
"....Holiday residence, near Pyramid Lake...."
"....His bodyguards and driver were also killed...."
"....Car crash...."
"....Rumours of suspicious circumstances, which his office has neither confirmed nor denied...."
It was late when he gotten back home.
The sun had long since set, the night cool and clear. He'd only intended to sit for a minute. Forget about this whole shit storm, and just relax.
She woke him with a kiss.
Ben stretched sleepily, pulling her closer to him. "Hey sweetheart."
"Hey. Why are you sleeping down here?"
"I got back late. Didn't want to wake you or Rose. Anyway I only meant to sit for a minute." He yawned, kissing her again. "How was she today?"
"Grouchy." Paige settled in her husbands arms. "She missed her daddy."
Ben managed to smile, stopping it just before it turned into another yawn. "Always nice to be missed." He fell silent, thinking.
"You're thinking about the Governor's accident aren't you?"
"I'm thinking it might not have been an accident. Some things just don't add up too well."
Paige cuddled closer to him, and he rested his chin on top of her head. "Like what?"
He laughed softly. "That's just it. I could be totally wrong, it could just be an accident. It just don't feel right. I told Bill to look for anything unusual in the wreckage."
"Then you've done all you can tonight." She climbed from his embrace and held her hand out. "Come to bed."