LETHAL OBSESSION (2 page)

      Her
hand reached for the TV remote, her finger poised on the button.  Did she
really want to witness Mark's demise thrown in her face by a TV anchor person?                                        

      "We
have breaking news this evening.  A private jet owned by business tycoon Mark
Anderson has crashed in a remote area of the Smoky Mountains.  Fire crews have
been dispatched to the site for containment."

      Ellen
steeled herself to listen carefully to a location.  She would be looking for
this place in the dark.  There was no point in waiting until morning when there
would be swarms of people.  She had to go tonight.  It was somewhere close to
the Asheville Airport, but where?  There was a lot of rugged terrain out
there.  Perhaps her computer would help.  Mr. Google knew everything.    Ellen
felt a little better having something to focus on.  It took her mind off the
inevitable.  The printer churned out info as Ellen prepared for a gruesome
trip.

      She
went to the closet to select some sturdy clothes. And there they were, Mark's
pressed suits and starched shirts just hanging there in innocence, waiting for
their owner to return.

Ellen
flipped through the hangers until she came upon his favorite shirt.  She took
it off the hanger and put it to her nose inhaling Mark's special scent.  The shirt
was soft from frequent washings.  Coming out of her robe, Ellen pulled on the
shirt. It was the closest thing she had to snatch what comfort she could.

Taking
sweats, jackets and hiking boots out of the closet, Ellen quickly finished dressing
and headed for the store room.  Even in summer the mountains could get chilly. She
would prepare herself with as much survival gear as possible just in case she
got lost or stranded.  Ellen would pack food and water to last for as long as
it took.                                             

      Juanita
was getting ready to leave as Ellen appeared at the bottom of the stairs.  Her
eyes went wide as a gasp escaped her lips. "Senora, I will stay here with
you tonight if you need me."  Where you go dressed like that?"

      "I'm
going to Mark's plane."

      "No
Senora, it is getting dark, you must not. It too dangerous."

      "I
have to, Juanita.  I'll be fine.  You go on home to your family and don't worry
about me.  I'll see you in the morning, okay?"

      Ellen
gathered the food and water and quickly made her way to the car to avoid any
further argument. In the garage she found a yellow hard hat, and coveralls in
case it was necessary to disguise herself as one of the workers. 

      Mark
had made Ellen vice president of the company and she had a badge to prove it. 
Putting the ID around her neck, she could obscure her name with fingers so only
the company logo and vice president would show. Nobody needed to know she was
the widow. She had no idea what to expect.   

      Ellen
got in her car.  Staring straight ahead she sat there in the darkened garage.  Jumbled
thoughts were flying around in her head like leaves in a whirlwind.  Ellen's
fingers trembled at the ignition causing the keys to fly out of her hand and
land with a chink on the floorboard. What was she doing?  Was she really going
to see her husband's burned out plane and maybe his charred body inside?  Was
it safe for her to drive?  Did it matter?  Did anything matter now?  The garage
door swung open.  Ellen retrieved her keys and the engine roared to life.

CHAPTER THREE

      The
gleaming silver BMW careened along the winding mountain highway.  Gene clocked
it at seventy.  Stupid idiot, he thought.  I'll bag this one real easy.
Reaching down to activate his blue lights, the sheriff's patrol car sprung to
life.

      Gene
glanced at his watch knowing he was going to be late for dinner.  Martha's
panties would be in a wad over this, he thought.  Tonight was prayer meeting at
the church and he promised her he would be home on time.

      Blue
lights twirled and the siren whaled. Cars pulled over and made a path for Gene,
probably thankful he wasn't after them. Ellen heard the siren and saw the blue strobes
in her rearview mirror.  "Damn it," she muttered. She had no idea how
fast she was going.  Pulling over to the side of the highway, Ellen waited with
barely concealed agitation.                         

      Gene
walked over to her car and bent down to the window as Ellen slid the glass
down.  That was when both of them did a double take.

      "Oh,
it's you," she said.

      "It's
me. Where are you going in such a hurry, Mrs. Anderson?"

      Ellen
thought for a few seconds and decided the truth would be best.  This man
offered to help.  Perhaps now was his chance.

      "You
know where I'm going, Sheriff Stone.  I need to see it for myself.  Can you
help me get there?"          

      "Ma'am,
I don't think the FAA is going to let you anywhere near that crash site.  They
have it secured like Fort Knox."

      Ellen
flashed her ID badge. "I'm vice president of Anderson Enterprises and
co-owner of that plane.  Think again."

      Gene
rubbed his face like he was totally defeated. "Look, it doesn't matter how
many badges you flash at these people. And they wouldn't care if you were the
Queen of Sheba. It's strictly their ball game until the investigation is over. 
They wouldn't let me in either."   

      "You've
been there?"                                    

      "Yes."                                                          

      She
continued to stare at him.  "I have to go there and see it for myself."             

      "Look,
I want to help you. I really do. Are you going to go anyway whether I help you
or not?"

      "You
know I am."

      "That's
what I thought. Okay, let me think for a minute."

      Then
Gene figured out a way. If anybody could get in and out of tight places Slippery
Stone knew how. He didn't inherit that nick name for nothing.  Gene leaned down
to Ellen's window.      "I may know a way to get you in there but you need
to understand I'm breaking the law and if we get caught..."               

      "I'm
willing to take the risk, and I appreciate you sticking your neck out for me,
Sheriff Stone. I know you could just ticket me for speeding and walk away. I
want you to know how much this means to me."        

      "Yeah
well, as an elected official, it will be my neck in the hoosegow for sure. 
Let's find a safe place to stash your car."                              

      For
the first time, Ellen gave him that thousand watt smile and Gene felt his toes
curl. Right about now he would risk his neck and just about anything else he
had just to see her smile again.      

      Clutching
the seat with white knuckles, Ellen had never seen a night quite as black as
this one.  She sat in the patrol car next to the sheriff as they picked their
way along a winding mountain road in the middle of nowhere.  Heavy fog had
moved in and even with the headlights it was impossible to see in front of them. 
Ellen didn't know how he managed to keep the car from veering right off into
oblivion. The man obviously knew exactly where he was going.  This was his territory
and she never could've managed this trip on her own. 

      Very
little was said between them and Ellen didn't want to distract him by talking. 
It did give her a chance to study this law man who chose to go out on an
illegal limb for her.

      His
silver hair was curly and thick.  Ellen figured he grayed in his twenties.  Gene
appeared to be older but it was hard to tell.  He was handsome in a rugged,
cowboy sort of way, very different from Mark. But it was his eyes that set him
apart. Ellen had never seen eyes that blue. They seemed to glow from within,
electric eyes.

      She
wondered if he had a family.  This area was considered the Bible Belt. It was
the norm for people here to be married and attend church. When Gene glanced in
her direction, Ellen quickly looked out the window with a burning face. She
didn't get away with it.  This man knew she was studying him.                        

      Lights
like disembodied ghosts could be seen through the fog and dense trees. Gene
pulled the car over into the high weeds.  "We need to walk from
here."                                 

      "Okay." 

      Ellen
opened her door and was immediately assaulted by a thousand blackberry thorns. 
They tore at her jacket as she pulled it around her to protect Mark's shirt.
Ellen tried to pick her way through chest high foliage.  Don't think about bugs
and snakes, she said to herself. This place had to be crawling with them.  Unconsciously
she started scratching.  It was so pitch dark.  Ellen could hardly see her hand
in front of her face. God only knew what living things she was treading on.

      "It's
going to be rough going until we get to the site.  Are you still up to
it?"   

      "Lead
the way, Sheriff."                                           

      "I
think you can call me Gene now.  I am certainly not acting in an official
capacity at the moment."     

      "Okay
Gene. And you can call me Ellen."                         

      "Here's
the plan, Ellen.  The FAA usually leaves one person at the site.  He won't be
alarmed if he thinks I'm doing my duty and making rounds.  He would have no way
of knowing I'm totally out of my own county.  I will do the social thing and
keep him occupied.  When you hear me whistle, go in and get your look see, but
stay out of sight and don't get caught.  Trespassing like this is a federal
offense and they won't care who you are, understood?" 

      "Yes."                                                          

      "When
I whistle again, you hightail it out of there and meet me back here.  Can you
find your way back?"           

      "Yes,
I hope so."  Ellen looked around dismayed. There were weeds she could
barely see over.  She certainly didn't want to get lost out here. Ellen leaned
up and gave Gene a kiss on the cheek. "You're the greatest, thank
you."

      "Okay,
there is a small deer trail right here."  He pointed his flash light. 
"Can you see it?"

      "I
can." Ellen only had a small flashlight but she watched carefully where
they were going so she would not get lost coming back. It was a huge black
forest out there with drop offs of thousands of feet.  She felt an involuntary
shiver move up her spine.

      Ellen
crouched in the bushes and waited as Gene veered to the right where a security
person sat in a camp chair.  In the distance she could just make out the
skeleton of a smoking, burned out aircraft lying on its side. Ellen's heart
squeezed painfully. It had been a beautiful plane and she loved flying with
Mark.  How many times had they sailed through the sky together?  Was his body
still in there, his essence?     

Ellen
heard Gene whistle and slowly picked her way through the trees, staying in the
shadows until she was standing in front of grotesque, twisted metal. Some of it
looked to be still smoldering.  

She
couldn't describe the feeling of being out here in the dark on a mountainside
gazing at the wreckage of a big chunk of her life.  This plane was all she had
left of Mark. At least here she felt closer to him if that was possible.

      There
were bright lights shining throughout the site.  Ellen could see where Gene was
sitting with the guard drinking coffee and chatting.  She had to pick her way
among the twisted debris. A suitcase was spotted, ripped to shreds.  Ellen went
to her knees running trembling fingers over the engraved initials, MSA.  That's
when the first tear trickled down her cheek.  A sky blue silk shirt lay next to
it amazingly still intact.  Ellen put the shirt against her face remembering
how thrilled Mark was over this Christmas gift. Rolling up the shirt, she put
it in her jacket pocket.                                                             

      When
Ellen reached what looked like the cockpit, she put her hand on the charred metal
where the Anderson Enterprises insignia was still visible. Something glittered
inside the dark cavity catching what little light there was.  Ellen put her
hand in.  A sharp pain made her wince.  The enclosure was like a booby trap of
razor sharp, twisted steel.  Reaching the object might inflict some nasty cuts
but Ellen felt compelled to retrieve the shiny object.  She moved her arm
carefully, bending, twisting and reaching.   The metal was scraping and cutting
but she kept going.  Finally her hand closed around a ring. Ellen knew without
checking the engraving that it was Mark's wedding band. Pulling her closed fist
back was like going against a gauntlet of knives.  She took the blue shirt out
of her pocket to rap around her bleeding arm and hand.  Clutching the gold band
to her chest Ellen sat on the charred ground leaning back against the body of
the plane.  The tears began as a trickle and soon became a torrent.  She was
sobbing into the blue shirt now saturated with blood.

      When
Gene's whistle sounded Ellen startled and looked around, momentarily confused. Then
she heard the whistle again and leaped to her feet hoping she could find her
way back to the patrol car.  She placed the ring on her finger securing it in
place with her own wedding rings. Following the small round glow of the
flashlight, she picked her way back through the tall weeds.  

      Gene
met her half way.  When he saw the blood he grabbed her hand. "What did
you do to yourself?" Gene unwrapped the homemade bandage on Ellen's arm. "Jesus,
how did you manage to cut yourself like that?" 

      "I
found this."  She held up her ring finger.  "And that shirt you took
off my hand was a Christmas present I got for Mark."

      "Well,"
he handed the shirt back to her.  "I hope the blood stains come
out."  Gene took her left hand and looked at the larger ring. "I
guess this was a prize worth going after. I'm glad you found it, Ellen."  Gene
pulled out a large first aid kit from the squad car and began cleaning Ellen's injuries. 

      "You
need stitches for some of these cuts but the steri-strips should work.  I can
take you to the Emergency Room if you want but they will ask questions."

      "This
is fine, Gene."    

      "Okay,
let's get out of here and go pick up your car."   

      Somewhere
between the time they left the site and Ellen's car, she had a major meltdown. 
Her grief was so overwhelming she couldn't control it. It was mortally
embarrassing.  Gene kept patting her hand while he drove, but Ellen could not
make herself stop sobbing.                   

      She
was still crying when they reached her car.  Gene looked at her tear stained
face and sighed. 

"Look,
I don't think you're in any shape to drive.  Why don't I just take you home.  I
can call one of my deputies to pick up your car."

      "Won't
they ask questions?"

      "Yeah,
probably."

      "I
can drive.  You can follow if it will make you feel any better."

      "It
will."

      By
the time they got back to the Anderson chalet, Ellen was shaking so hard, she
could hardly walk. The finality of Mark being gone had hit home and Ellen was
being blind-sided by emotions so deep they threatened to consume her.  She had managed
to hold back the tears while maneuvering hairpin mountain roads in the pitch
black night, but now that she was home safe, the damn really broke.

Now
Ellen was sobbing again as Gene got her settled on the couch and held her until
the heart wrenching grief could pass.  After awhile exhaustion overcame Ellen
and she slept.                

      When
she opened her eyes and looked around, she knew she was safe. Somebody was
holding her against his strong, warm, body. For a mere second Ellen thought it
was Mark.  Perhaps the plane crash had just been a bad dream.  Then the cuts on
her arm began to sting and all the memories of this God awful night came
flooding back.

      Ellen
opened her hand and saw Mark's wedding band nestled next to her own rings.  The
dream was real.  Mark was dead.       Moving away from the comforting warmth,
Ellen felt mortal embarrassment. 

      "I'm
so sorry.  I don't know what came over me."  She moved to the far end of
the couch.

      "I
believe grieving for your husband came over you, and there's nothing to be
sorry about."                     

      Restless,
Ellen stood up needing to do something.  "Would you like some coffee?  I
really owe you for tonight."                  

      "You
don't owe me for anything, Ellen.  This is something I wanted to do.  If you
tell me where your liquor cabinet is I will make you my special drink
guaranteed to make all your troubles melt away," He chuckled, "at
least for awhile." 

      Ellen
sat on her couch while glasses tinkled and the blender buzzed.  She couldn't
help but wonder at this strange scenario.  Here she was with a bandaged arm
from retrieving Mark's wedding band from his wrecked plane, and having a drink
with the county sheriff at midnight.  What a scenario for a reality show this
would be.