Chapter 5 – Meet the Spartans
"Mare, Mare….c'mon Sunshine, time to rise and shine." Marshall leaned over his partner's back, grazing his knuckles on her cheek. Even in her sleep, Mary moved. She had flung her arm out and clocked him on the back of the head when she rolled onto her stomach. Not his favorite way to wake up, but in the grander scheme of things, acceptable. Since he was awake, he got ready to move out, letting his bruised partner catch a few more Zs. When she groaned, he moved back quickly. He didn't need a bloody nose to go with the tender spot on his head.
"There better be coffee," she threatened. He knew how caffeine dependant she was, but their current temporary abode held no such niceties.
"There will be coffee, but we have to get out of here first, and in order to do that . . . ." he let the end of the sentence trail off. She would figure it out, especially if there was coffee involved. The day was winter bright with the crispness that promised snow. He opened the drapes, and the sun made her squint and her blonde hair glow. Marshall smirked as he saw the halo around her. She's no angel, unless angels are proficient at profanity, kicking ass, and driving like Mario Andretti.
Mary rolled over to get out of the invading beam of cold sunshine. When she opened her eyes, Marshall could tell the reason for their trip, her missing mom, the attempts on her life registered. "Go, go get dressed," Marshall shooed her toward the bathroom. "You're bag is already in there. The sooner you get dressed, the sooner you get coffee," he sing songed. With another groan followed by a sleepy grumble about her need for caffeine, Mary complied.
After a brief call to the Jersey marshal's office, they left for the rental car agency. Marshall was certain that the fact that the rental car office had a pot of brown sludge that passed for coffee lowered the chance his partner would injure someone. The coffee wasn't up to Marshall's standards, but it reduced his partner's mood from unpredictable to irritated.
Jinx has been missing more than two days. Was she still alive? Her body felt twitchy as her brain went round and round with the few facts she knew. Marshall was careful to be close but out of range of her hands, if not her words.
On the road, caffeinated in an innocuous sedan, Marshall cautioned, "Mare, I can't read plates at this speed." His head swiveled in the passenger seat, looking for the one car that was looking for them.
"See that's why you shouldn't stuff your head with trivia. You can't turn it fast enough!"she crowed.
The silver four door didn't look like law enforcement, but that was the only thing Mary liked about it.
"Uh Mare?"
"What?" she kept her eyes on the road, and had turned left, then right, onto a freeway, then off. Her driving appeared as confused as she was. Did Marshall really mean what he had said? It had convinced her to stay last night. When did she allow anyone to derail her plans. But that was it. I didn't have a plan. He knew that. How did he know that? How did he know she was trying to protect him. Isn't that what she hated? Having decisions made for her?
"Huh," she let out as she realized what she had been doing by trying to keep him out of harms way. She wasn't used to taking her partner into account.
Quiet, despite her morning coffee, Mary seemed to know where she was going, so Marshall leaned back. He looked relaxed, but Mary knew her partner was on alert. After the being followed yesterday, Marshall wasn't taking any chances.
She didn't remember dreaming last night. She was grateful not to relive Marshall's dream shooting. She remembered feeling safe next to him. She slept like a log after Marshall had massaged the worst of her sore muscles.
"If you are intending to do around the world in 80 days, this is a hell of a head start." He tried to keep his tone curious, not critical. "You've gone north, east, and west in the last hour. We're not being followed," he assured her.
"You were right about the tracking device, Doofus, but that doesn't mean there aren't goons tracking us. These mother humpin cretins are smart enough to watch rental agencies. I'm not putting my sister in danger too. We're ditching this car."
Really. Why did we bother with the rental agency? She was making it difficult for anyone to follow them. Marshall figured she had something in mind. Asking would get him a caustic reply. Silence. I'll wait her out. She'll tell me - - - eventually.
Checking lanes on either side, Marshall suppressed a smile when Mary decided to fill him in.
"There's a car dealer near Harrison that specializes in resto rods," she turned and grinned.
It wasn't a friendly grin. More of a cat about to eat the canary grin. Whatever she had in mind would involve some brand of Mary induced coercion, pain or both. Marshall was glad he wasn't the target, but not knowing what she had in mind made him feel uneasy.
"Resto rod. That's a car that looks stock on the outside, but is anything but under the hood."
"Give the man a cigar. NOS system, the works," she admitted.
"And the owner of said car lot is a friend?" his eyebrows rising.
"Not exactly," she dragged out the last word. "Something better" she declared. "A dirtbag piece of scum who owes me."
"Do I want to know why this person owes you?" He inquired archly. "Or would that make me an accessory after the fact?" Marshall didn't expect an answer. He didn't get one.
Someday he hoped she would share all of her story. What led the daughter of a federal fugitive to become a U.S. Marshal? It couldn't have been easy , but easy and Mary seemed to exist in different universes.
Avoiding highways and major streets they crabbed their way to the rust gated used car lot, where Larry, the owner, was eager but not happy to give Mary a deal on an innocent looking 'family' car. Marshall wasn't surprised by the Nitrous Oxide System and other custom parts when he opened the hood.
No bullet proof glass but it would do. Marshall was happy to buckle up in their stealth dragster.
The winter afternoon was quickly darkening when they arrived at Principal Stuber's house. Marshall was relieved there were no black SUVs. Mary slowed and parked several doors down from the two story brick house that was their destination. There were pots of evergreens atop the brick balustrade framing the steps to the white storm door.
Mary had called earlier. He could see a face in the door's diamond paned windows. It swung open as they approached and Mary rushed in. Marshall checked the street then followed and closed the door. Once inside he saw his partner being hugged by an older woman with dark brown hair muttering "Mary."
Marshall studied the woman. Mary endured the hug, and thanked the woman. Marshall noticed Mary was more anxious than before. Was she wondering if their presence was endangering the Stubers?
Despite the precautions they had taken, Marshall felt uneasy.
The woman noticed Marshall behind Mary and gave him the once over. Mary took the opportunity to escape. She caught his arm, and pulled him close. "Principal Stuber," she announced, smiling nervously, "this is my partner, Marshall."
"Joanna, please. We're all grownups here. I'm not your high school principal." Mary ducked her head in embarrassment.
"Partner, hmm?" she smirked. "Is that what you're calling it these days?"
Marshall's cheeks turned that slight shade of pink that Mary found amusing, and adorable. Adorkable, she thought. "No, Joanna. That's what law enforcement agencies call it," She wasn't ready to reveal their relationship just yet.
"Law enforcement," repeated Joanna. "You did it!" she practically squeaked. "Good for you," the older woman beamed. Turning to Marshall she explained, "The guidance counselor told Mary she could never make it in police work. Never tell Mary can't. Turning back to Mary, "You had to prove him wrong."
"Damn straight," Mary agreed. There was more to the story, but now was not the time.
Joanna took both Mary's hands in hers and added a heart felt "Good for you!"
Mary could only take so much adulation. Avoiding the congratulatory pat on the back she knew was coming, in addition to the hand clasp, she looked behind Joanna to the back of the house, and asked "Where's Brandi?" She needed to see her sister. Brandi had to have heard or seen something. Something that would lead them to Jinx.
"She's in the back bedroom," Joanna gestured. " Let me take your jackets. " After handing hers to Joanna, Mary knocked on the door called softly, "Squish? It's me."
The white panel door burst open as Brandi launched herself into Mary's arms. Waterworks streamed from the blondes bloodshot eyes. Mary knew this was just the latest round of tears. Or beers. Probably both. As Brandi subsided to hiccups, Mary led her back into the bedroom.
Mary sat and patted the bed for Brandi to join her. The room was frilly and cheerful, but small. The room was lit by a pair of nightstand lamps. The white eyelet bedspread looked unused. It reminded Mary of the white French provincial bedroom set she had wanted when she was 8.
Marshall stood guard in the doorway. Mary peered at the slight blonde and hugged her close, letting Brandi wind down. Finally, Brandi loosened her grip, "I'm so glad you're here," she hiccupped. "I didn't know what to do."
"Tell me everything Squish, everything you remember, everything that happened the day, the week before Mom disappeared. Even the tiniest detail could help." Marshall took out a small spiral notebook.
Under Mary's careful questioning, Brandi told them everything she could remember. Finished, Brandi leaned against her sister, eyes closed, breathing in the comfort and safety that was Mary.
When they emerged from the bedroom, Joanna offered, "Stay for dinner? Pot roast." Mary looked at Marshall, who muttered for her ears only, "I'll do a perimeter check. If it's clear, we can stay."
While Marshall checked outside, Mary nodded to Joanna, "I still remember your pork chops, Joanna. How can I help?" Mary and Brandi followed their hostess to the kitchen where a small table and 4 chairs sat close to a warm oven emitting wonderful smells. Joanna brought out a bottle of wine, and glasses. Mary saw Brandi almost drop a plate when it slipped from her grasp as they set the table.
Marshall shook the cold from his shoulders as he entered the cozy kitchen He nodded the all clear to Mary and then joined them at the table. A deep serving dish of stew sat in the middle of the table, surrounded by warm crusty bread.
"I haven't had a home cooked meal since the last time Doofus," Mary confessed, gesturing toward Marshall, "made some French chicken thing I can't pronounce."
"Chicken Cordon Bleu, Mare" Marshall admonished between bites of savory meat. "It's not exotic."
"How do you get the meat so tender?" Marshall politely, inquired.
Joanna was delighted by his interest and shared her braising technique. Mary eyed Brandi, who sat quietly drinking more than eating. Brandi caught her watching. Looking to Joanna, Mary asked "Maybe you could give him your pork chop recipe?" Joanna smiled, and Marshall shrugged.
The smell of the home cooked meal made Mary tuck in with enthusiasm and Marshall needed no encouragement to follow her lead. Brandi picked at her plate, moving more food than she ate. Mary wanted to stay and see that Brandi ate something, but Joanna derailed that plan when she asked Mary to give her a hand cleaning up.
"Marshall's the kitchen expert. You sure you don't want him?" Joanna was having none of it. "Let him digest. Give Marshall and Brandi time to get to know one another." Realizing how much she owed the woman, Mary reluctantly followed. She caught Marshall's eye and glanced toward Brandi with a questioning look.
Marshall wasn't sure if she was encouraging him to talk to Brandi or asking him to figure out what was going on with her little sister. He noticed that Brandi seemed lost without Mary although her dazed look could be from several glasses of wine he'd seen her drink.
"Nice to meet you, Brandi, even if the circumstances. . ."he trailed off.
"Yeah, they suck," Brandi replied. Dinner had smoothed the worry lines from her forehead, but didn't dim her curiosity. She cocked her head and looked at him. "You're different," she announced.
"Really? " While Marshall knew his tall some would say gawky body was far from the norm, he preferred to think of himself as above average. He was taller than most, a distinct advantage when following witnesses, or criminals.
"You're not her type," she declared. "Mary usually goes for guys with muscles," she flexed her own slim bicep to demonstrate.
More amused than offended Marshall asked, "How do you know I don't have muscles?" The slight blonde shrugged in reply and said " I don't see any."
"I'm not exactly dressed for the gym. Just because you can't see them doesn't mean they aren't there," Marshall rebutted. "Besides, I'm her partner, not her boyfriend."
"Uh huh, and you're here with her because . . . . ." Brandi wanted to know why this stranger was willing to entangle himself in the latest Shannon family drama. He is a marshall, and kidnapping is a crime. Her train of thought derailed as she realized Marshall had asked her a question.
"How many of Mary boyfriends have you met?"
Brandi snorted, and looked bemused, trying to count the ones she remembered. Giving up she said, "Enough. I know Mark." At Marshall's questioning look she slurred "Mark Stuber, Joanna's son."
"So, he and Mary dated?"
"Dated?" she snorted. "They were married."