Eye of the Beholder (12 page)

“Are you hurt?”

“No, just a nasty bump on my head. But the guy got away. I never saw him. By the time I got my wits about me, he’d run out the front door.”

“How do you know it was a man?”

“Because he shoved me like Attila the Hun.”

“Please tell me you reported it to the police.”

“Yeah, I did. But I can’t find anything missing. The guy broke the dining room window and let himself in. I had a lot of glass to clean up, but the window’s already been fixed. With a better lock this time.”

“Good.” Ellen paused to let her thoughts catch up with her emotions. “What did the police have to say?”

“They figure it was probably a burglar working the area. I’m sure he’s moved on. Regardless, I can’t imagine he’d be stupid enough to come back here since I don’t have anything valuable.”

“What do you mean? You have a TV and a computer.”

“Dinosaurs—both of them. Practically worthless.”

“Thieves today will kill you for a nickel—or for no reason at all! I can’t believe you’re being so calm about this!”

“Ellen, get a grip. I wouldn’t have told you if I thought you were going to go off.” There was a long pause. “Then again, judging from your strong reaction, I might be persuaded to conclude you still care about me.”

Ellen was surprised by the tenderness in his tone. “Of course, I still care about you, even if you are a bully.”

“Sorry. I have been rather forceful lately.”

“The word
controlling
comes to mind.”

“But do you understand it’s because I see things you don’t?”

Oh, please!
Ellen breathed in and let it out, letting a few moments of dead air say what she wasn’t going to.

“Okay, I know better than to get into these kinds of issues over the telephone,” Guy said. “Let’s agree to discuss this in a civil manner when I get home Wednesday night. Till then, will you accept my apology for hanging up on you and for raising my voice? No matter how angry I was, it was wrong.”

“Yes, it was. I accept your apology. I’m sure both of us can do better.”

“I agree. Now, hopefully, each of us will have a better week.”

Ellen wanted to bring up the FBI’s questioning of her, but she wasn’t about to spoil the truce. “So how did everyone at the office react to the burglary?”

“I didn’t have time to get into it. It wasn’t that big of a deal.”

“Could’ve fooled me. I’m surprised you would downplay it.”

“Because I didn’t overreact, I’m downplaying it?”

Ellen started to retort and then didn’t. “You sound tired, Counselor.”

“Yeah, I am. I should probably go. I’ve still got paperwork to do before I call it a night.”

“All right. Lock your doors and windows.”

He chuckled. “Yes, Mother. Good night.”

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

Guy hung up the phone.
Darn!
Why hadn’t he had the courage to tell Ellen about finding the cocaine or about Kinsey spending the night at his apartment? Maybe it would be easier when he could eyeball her.

He went in the living room and lay on the couch. He didn’t have any paperwork to do tonight. What possessed him to tell Ellen he did? The last thing he needed was to get comfortable with not telling her the truth.

Guy’s mind began to replay his confrontation with Kinsey. Something about it didn’t sit right. He’d worked closely with her for over a year and had never before felt as though she was hiding something. He found it hard to believe she would just turn a blind eye to these young professionals who were doing coke. Then again, he knew of several instances when he had questioned Brent’s ethics but hadn’t told anyone because he didn’t feel it was his place.

Guy was pretty sure Kinsey wasn’t doing drugs. She didn’t
show any signs of it, and the few times she had been required to take a random drug test, she had tested negative.

He just wasn’t buying the idea that some intruder stashed a bag of cocaine behind the couch cushion.

 11
 

O
n Tuesday morning, Guy went into the office early and noticed when Kinsey came in that she didn’t have much to say. The dark circles under her eyes told him she probably hadn’t slept any better than he had.

She gathered some papers, then came into his office and closed the door behind her.

“Have you got a minute before I go to the courthouse to file these?”

Guy put down his pencil. “Sure.”

Kinsey pulled a chair closer to his desk and sat. “Did you talk to the police after you left last night?”

“Actually, I didn’t.”

Her eyes were wide and questioning.

“
No
, I didn’t flush it,” he said. “I’m not comfortable destroying evidence. But you made a good point about this being bad publicity for the firm. I don’t want to be hasty.”

“So what
are
you going to do with it?”

“I don’t know, but I’d sure like to know how a bag of cocaine got into my apartment.” Guy held her gaze and thought she flinched. “Kinsey, if there’s something you need to tell me, now’s the time to do it. We’ve gotten close this past year and I’d like to think you could trust me with anything.”

“Of course, I could … if I had anything to tell. I don’t.”

Guy exhaled. “All right.”

“So you’re definitely not going to the police?”

“Not at the moment.”

“I think it’s a big mistake to hang on to it.”

“I’m an officer of the court, Kinsey. I don’t destroy evidence. You of all people should know better.”

“I do. But this is completely outside the norm. Neither of us knows anything about where the cocaine came from, so why should it dictate what we have to do? If you turn it in to the police, they’ll want to question me and I’ll be forced to either lie or admit I know people who do coke. Some choice. When Brent finds out, he’ll find a reason to get rid of me. And the press will turn my sleeping on your couch into some sleazy affair. How do you think that will fly with Ellen?”

Guy felt the heat burn his neck. “I’m not going to do something unethical just to keep from being accused of something that never happened. My track record should mean something.”

“I’m sure it does, Guy.
I’m
the one who’s going to end up paying for it.”

Ellen Jones stopped jogging and looked out over the calm gulf waters, the sound of seagulls filling the expanse. She took a whiff of damp, salty air, and was suddenly reminded of her friend Ned who used to spend his days building sandcastles and giving away bits of wisdom. The water was the color of his eyes and the denim cutoffs he always wore. She could almost picture him, skin tanned and wrinkled, and white wisps of hair blown in all directions.

“When I build my sandcastles,”
Ned had told her,
“my mind is free and I can do a lot of intercessory praying. I can’t explain why, but praying for people makes me feel connected to heaven and earth—and it’s something I look forward to every day when I wake up and realize I’m still here.”

But on his eighty-eighth birthday, Ned didn’t wake up—at least not in this realm. Ellen looked up at the gold-rimmed cloud that hid the sun and wondered if Ned knew what an impact he
had made in her prayer life—or that she had forgiven Blanche Davis and befriended her.

Ellen knelt next to the surf and scooped the wet sand into a mound and patted it until it was hard. Ned’s words seemed almost audible.

“You’re probably wondering why a grown man’s out here all alone, building a sandcastle. It’s good therapy. Keeps me out of trouble.”

Ellen smiled. “Well, Ned, that’s exactly what I need.”

As she sculpted the sand, she prayed for Julie, Ross, Sarah Beth, Billy and Lisa, Blanche, and Mina and Ali. She prayed that God would help her understand why Guy objected to her friendship with them.
Lord, help me let go of my anger. Help me to act and not react
.

Ellen heard someone call her name. She looked up and saw Mina Tehrani jogging along the surf about thirty yards from where she was sitting. She waved and motioned for her to come.

Mina came over and dropped down in the dry sand. “It feels good to run. I have been moping around too long.”

“Nothing like a little exercise to perk up one’s spirits. How’s Ali doing?”

“He insisted on going to clinic.”

“Then that’s probably where he needs to be.”

“I think so. His patients were unhappy being passed off to other doctors. Hospital gave me early shift starting tomorrow. It will be good to get busy.” Mina glanced over at Ellen. “Is your husband still angry?”

Ellen felt her face get hot. “What makes you ask that?”

“I think he doesn’t like you to be friends with us. Too much controversy maybe.”

“It’s not personal, Mina. Guy’s wary of all Muslims right now. It has everything to do with terrorists and nothing to do with you and Ali as people. If he’d take time to get to know you, he’d like you as much as I do.”

“But we are Muslim
and
Iranian. How you say … two strikes?”

“Well, you’re not terrorists. Has the FBI released Bobak?”

Mina’s eyebrows scrunched. “No, and I’m worried. I’m sure he knows nothing about weapons on boat or terrorist cell. But smart aleck attitude will not sit well with FBI.”

“Regardless, if Bobak’s innocent, they’ll clear him.”

Mina raised her eyebrows. “If? Even you have doubts?”

“I don’t know your nephew,” Ellen said. “But I have hope that your assessment is right.”

Mina looked out over the water. “Ali called his brother in Iran last night. They had words.”

“About Bobak?”

“Ali’s brother called him traitor for helping FBI find Bobak.”

“That’s unfair,” Ellen said. “If Bobak’s innocent, he has nothing to fear. And if he isn’t, Ali’s refusal to cooperate would make him guilty of harboring a terrorist. Doesn’t Ali’s brother understand that?”

“He understands only what he hears on Aljazeera. He acts like puppet—much safer for him. We could never go back to that, though nothing will be the same for us now.”

“Why do you say that?”

Mina’s eyes brimmed with tears and she looked down, her sleek, dark hair falling over her cheeks, her finger making circles in the sand. “From now on, Muslims will not trust Ali because he is friend of U.S. government. And government will not trust Ali because he is friend of Islam.” Mina wiped a tear off her cheek and looked at Ellen. “Ali’s honesty and patriotism bring only scorn. Where is freedom in that?”

Guy felt a gnawing ache in his stomach. He looked at his watch and realized it was already noon. He put a paperweight on the contract he was reviewing and got up from his desk and stretched his lower back. He noticed Kinsey wasn’t at her desk.

He picked up a pencil and wrote on a Post-it note.
Kinsey, I need you to research something for me. Let’s plan to meet at four and I’ll go over it with you—G
.

Guy stuck the note on the back of Kinsey’s chair, then stopped at the receptionist’s desk on his way out. “Has Kinsey called in?”

“Yes, sir, around eleven. She said she was at the courthouse and might be a while.”

“Okay, thanks.”

Guy opened the door and walked down the hall toward the entrance to the building, trying to decide if he was in the mood for a sandwich or a pizza buffet.

He opened the door just as Kinsey reached it. “There you are.”

“Sorry,” she said. “This took longer than I thought.”

“Have you had lunch?”

“No, but I really don’t need to eat.”

“Come on. Let’s grab a bite. The last thing I need is you running out of steam.”

“Are you kidding? I could live for a month off the calories I consumed at Savvy’s the other night. Plus, I don’t feel very conversational at the moment.”

Guy was thinking two pouting women in his life was too much. “So don’t talk. You can’t just stop eating.”

“Then let’s have lunch at my place. I made up a huge batch of spinach salad and that’s a lot healthier than eating out.”

“Does sound good, but it seems inappropriate for me to have lunch at your place.”

She rolled her eyes. “Suit yourself. But that’s the only thing that sounds good to me. See you later.” She turned around and started walking toward her car.