Take the Fourth (8 page)

“Jorja, do you want me to flag this?”

“Yes, flag it, flag it now, I’ll call you back,” and she hung up the phone and started to read the entire report. Her eyes stopped at a specific word. She stared at this word and couldn’t move past it. It was as if her eyes blurred out all other surrounding words on purpose, as if this word was in 3-D, and burning into her retinas. The word wasn’t really a word at all. It was a name—the name of Nash. She hadn’t thought of that name in quite some time and now that name opened a floodgate of memories.

Greg got his answer. He removed the report from the file without so much of a reaction. His nimble fingers glided across the keyboard typing various commands and hitting various function keys and before any amount of time had elapsed the file was on its way back to the FBI with a new timestamp—a new timestamp and a missing report that would have seriously caused questions and concerns for a campaign duo that could take on the White House. Greg knew why she had flagged the report, although he thought he knew; given the circumstance he’d have done the same, and almost did but he wanted that decision to be hers. He didn’t need his ass on the line and what a thin line it was. Greg returned his eyes to a copy of the report he had just confiscated and reread it yet again. He took note of the facts and wanted to dig a little more, he wanted to find out who was the mystery woman, who was Ms. Nash. Again his fingers flew around the keyboard and not before long he had his answer. His jaw dropped as he read her file. One word stood out from the crowd, yet it wasn’t a word at all. It was a name, a name of a daughter, the name of his boss, the Deputy Director of DS&T, the name Jorja Carson. Now he knew the real reason she had him flag the report.

She shook her head, she tried to gather her thoughts, but her mother’s name brought back memories of a gentler time, a happier time. Her mind filled with senses of long ago, containing sites of holidays, family, home, and smiles, containing smells and tastes of seafood, especially crab with old bay seasoning, and containing sounds of seagulls, waves, and her mother’s soothing voice. Her mind was so filled with joy from the past she didn’t notice the tears filling in the corner of her eyes. She remembered walking down to the dock in her backyard, stepping over the few loose boards, and seeing her mother’s boat. Carolina’s boat was huge… okay maybe not huge but to a six year old it was huge. It was her mother’s pride. It was aptly named The Carolina Crabber. Her father never ventured on the boat; he didn’t very much care for the water; he could never swim, so he was afraid of water but her mother… . well her mother should have been born with fins. She loved it. Jorja remembered boarding the boat and her mother immediately making her put on one of those puffy, smelly, bright orange life vests that was two sizes too big for her and very uncomfortable, but “them the rules” her mother would say…“them the rules”. Carolina was very well educated but always liked that phrase no matter how incorrect it seemed. Jorja remembered turning the key at her mother’s command and bringing the engine to life, then the ropes were lifted and the waters of the Chesapeake were theirs. They would ride to a secluded inlet, drop anchor and await the bluish crustaceans. Jorja’s favorite method to catch the critters was to tie a chicken leg on a piece of string and lower into the water with a big old lead weight. After fifteen minutes or so, she would slowly, oh so very slowly, pull the string into the boat, one finger at a time. It would take almost ten minutes to pull the string to where she could see the chicken leg beneath the surface. More times than not, there would be a crab floating to the surface with the chicken in its claw. With her mother’s help, a net would be lowered, the crab snatched, and hauled into the boat, and then the process would start all over again. Her mother had the typical crab traps where each of the four sides of the trap would open when they hit the floor of the bay, when the rope was pulled all sides came up trapping inside any crabs nibbling on the bait. “What fun was that?,” Jorja often asked. Thinking back to these times Jorja suddenly couldn’t recall the last time she had had crab, two years, maybe five, maybe even ten years ago, maybe even longer. She couldn’t comprehend why this was so. She loved crab. She was close to crab. She still lived by the Chesapeake, still lived within the boundaries of crab country, yet for some reason she never craved the delicacy of the bay since her mother’s disappearance, that is, not until now. Her trip down memory lane was interrupted by her inbox ding, her eyes focused on her desktop, and she glanced upon the police report again. Her mind shifted back to reality. She reread the summary and now probing thoughts were clanging in her head.

She tried to remember events of that day but they had dissipated over the years, plus she was very young at the time, all that was left were snapshots in her mind. She remembered that her mother didn’t wait for her after school. She remembered the neighbor, Mrs. G, was waiting for her with a snack. She remembered how dark it was and staring in the direction of the empty dock. She remembered her father saying everything was going to be ok, and her father crying. She remembered the police coming to the house. She remembered waking up and looking out her bedroom window and still there was no boat, actually she remembered she did this almost every day in hopes that her mother would one day return. She never did. What she didn’t remember was any type of funeral or church or cemetery or hearse or tombstone; she tried but she couldn’t. She didn’t remember ever officially saying goodbye and with this she felt her heart ache, she felt a sudden empty hole that was always there but just ignored until this day, and then she felt angry.

Again she shook her head and tried to gather her thoughts but the barrage of unanswered questions pounding inside her head made it difficult to think straight. New information always brings to light new revelations to a story and now she was forming new questions as what really happened that day. Her memory wasn’t cooperating and all she could do was form questions that led to unthinkable notions; this was partially due to her background at the CIA but still, she now had her doubts. “Why were my uncle’s fingerprints on the boat, how well did he know my mom, did he have something to do with her disappearance, or worse her death, is that why he took me under his wing, did he feel guilty, could he even be my father?” Jorja had a lot to think about and she did so in the weeks that followed.

 . . .

Chapter 10
 

D
etective Lynch went back to his office sat at his desk and gave life to his computer monitor. He entered all his notes to the case file which took about seventy minutes or so, after he finished he did a few searches of other files within the police database. Research was the primary key to solving most crimes; it was also the most tedious. His first attempt at finding answers was to find any other missing children within a 25 mile radius of this town within the past year. His search parameters returned 3 hits. One of them being his case the other two marked closed. He read their case files anyhow. He continued his research. He widened the radius to fifty miles and received two more hits. Again both cases were closed… one had drowned at a nearby lake, the other was taken by her mother to California. Again he widened the search by another twenty-five miles, three more hits and two more closed cases. The third was marked opened, ongoing investigation. He read the file and found many similarities. The missing person was blonde, a female, under 6 years of age, and vanished from a park near the parents home. He quickly punched the number of the investigating officer into his phone.

“This is officer Orlando Garfield, I am currently out of the office, please leave a message and I’ll return your call at my earliest convenience”

“Hello, this is detective Charles Lynch of the Forest Park, police department… I have to… . goddamnit,” and quickly hung up the phone. He didn’t have time to play phone tag. He dialed another number.

“Taylor County Sheriff’s office, how may I direct your call?”

“Hello, I’m Detective Charles Lynch of the Forest Park police department, I need to speak to Officer Garfield.”

“I’m sorry, he’s not in today, may I patch you into his voice mail?”

“No, I need to speak with him immediately, can you tell me where he can be reached?”

“I’m sorry detective but today it’s his day off.”

“How about a home phone?”

“Well . .I… can’t…”

He cut her off even before she answered, “This is about Tanya Drake and her case, I may have some more information.”

Everybody at Taylor County Sheriff’s Office knew of the case… first missing persons case under the age of 15 ever… . it stung a lot of people hard, there were still color photographs all over town and it was almost a year ago,. Not quite a year but close, but no one in this town forgot so soon.

The dispatcher quickly confirmed Lynch’s identity then supplied him with Orlando’s home phone.

Six rings later, Officer Orlando Garfield was on the phone.

“Hello.”

“Officer Garfield?”

“Yes?”

“Detective Charles Lynch sir, I’m sorry to disturb you at home but I’m in the midst of a missing person case and our cases sound very similar but mine is just a few hours old.”

“Similar in what manner?”

“Both blonde, under 6, female, within a 75 mile radius of one another and vanished from a playground near the parent’s home.”

“Excuse me for being blunt but that’s it? Doesn’t sound like much to go on.”

Lynch could tell right away he liked this guy’s style. He’s to the point just like him. “Quite right, just a hunch is all. I need to follow it up. I always go with my gut feeling. So can we share some information?”

“Sure, whatcha ya got?”

“A pencil sketch of a suspect.”

“How soon can we meet?” was the reply from an officer with an almost year old unsolved, still open missing person case.

. . .

Chapter 11
 

E
aster was early this year and she dreaded the holiday, always did, even as a child, just too religious for her tastes. It never made any sense to her how the non-Christians accepted it with rabbits and eggs and speaking of eggs—hardboiled and dyed were not her cup of tea, neither were the ham and dried paska bread that her Aunt Gracie served on the holiest of Sundays and this coming Sunday would be no different. She knew she couldn’t back down from the invitation; she never could, only if there happened to be another holiday massacre, which was very unlikely but unlike past Easter Sundays, she was looking forward to this one. She wanted very much to call her uncle out on the carpet and question his fingerprints straight up but she needed to be tactful, besides she did still love him.

Though Grace and Floyd never had children for reasons unknown to Jorja, aunt Gracie came from a rather large family, so every seat was filled at banquet sized table in the opulent dining room. There was chatter from each section of the table with almost everyone trying to seize some talk time with the man of the hour, the one who just might be vice president some day. Jorja knew this was not the time or place to speak of the past.

Dinner was unmemorable as remembered with dessert becoming the highlight of the feast. Jorja and Gracie, along with Robin, the maid but more like family, gathered a few dishes and wound up in the kitchen. Robin returned to the table to finish the clearing.

“Honey, what’s up? You’re not yourself,” the perceptive aunt questioned.

“You could always read me, couldn’t you,” a rhetorical statement, “I don’t know, it’s just lately… . well lately…,” and Jorja stopped with silence looking for a way to finish.

“Come out with it girl, I didn’t know you to beat around the bush.”

Jorja seemed to gather her thoughts, “Okay… it’s just lately I’ve been thinking… . thinking about mom,” and she said it as though she was embarrassed to say it in front of her aunt, “It’s been thirty-two years and I really never… . never questioned anything about her, my memories of her seemed to be fading… . I mean you and uncle Floyd have played a huge part in my life… . it’s just that… it’s that I feel a little bad for bringing this up now I guess.”

“Honey, you never have to feel that way about talking about your mother… . It has been a long time, too long and I have to apologize for not mentioning anything sooner myself, I guess I wanted you to bring it up… . deep down I knew we’d have this conversation I just thought it would have been earlier in your life… truth is I placed it on the backburner because I really didn’t know how to approach you… then time passed and I guess I hoped it would simply fade away. May I ask why now?”

“Strange really, the other day I was looking at a menu and realized it had been ages since I had crab, it got me to thinking about crabbing and how mom and I always went out on her boat every Friday after school, then a flood of memories hit me but I know there were more that I can’t recall, then questions started to form, questions I could have never asked at that age,” as she told her convincing lie.

“Alright, Robin can finish up here, do you want to go to the study, away from the crowd and talk a bit?”

“If you don’t mind being away from your guests?”

“Honey, they are family, you are family, I’m here when anyone needs me, how about another cup of coffee first?”

“Yes please,” and with that they made their way into the study. It was a manly room, with dark wainscoting, shelves with books and nautical trinkets, and of course Uncle Floyd’s bar stocked with nothing but the finest. Aunt Gracie closed the pocket door and they placed themselves into rather large leather parlor chairs in front of the small fireplace, though it was a chilly March evening the fireplace was not glowing with ambers. Jorja glanced at the original oil above the mantle that pictured a schooner cutting the waters of the Atlantic; it was by some famous artist whose name she did not know, then with a sense of purpose, she asked her first question.

“Where is mom’s grave marker?” No beating around the bush this time for Jorja. This caught Aunt Gracie way off guard and was slow to answer before Jorja chimed in again. “See I don’t recall a funeral for my mom, I don’t remember visiting a grave site and bringing flowers… I don’t remember saying goodbye.”

“None of us really said our goodbyes, it hit your father the hardest, he never got over her death.”

“Her body was never found, right?”

“That is true, that’s why there was no funeral. Your father refused to give up hope and having a funeral would mean that his hope was lost. Oh, how he loved her so, truly adored your mother, worshiped the ground she walked on… even though she was pretty much a free spirit and never had the same admiration for your father.”

“So are you saying…”

“Wait, no, I’m not saying your mother never loved your father… she did indeed love him, she loved him for being the father of her child, she loved him for providing the foundation of the family, she loved him enough to say I do.”

“Then…”

“What I’m trying to say, is that your mother’s true love had already passed, she knew this, so when the opportunity of a serious relationship came around for a second chance, she grabbed it. Your mother took that chance with your father. She wouldn’t have married him if not for love, it just wasn’t as deep as your father’s. This is not a bad thing. It is or was the same with your uncle and I. I fell head over heels with him in college. I would do anything for him but Floyd was a different breed, he had goals in life that seemed more important than family. I married him anyway hoping, as do most us women, that one day he would change. He hasn’t yet. Oh I still love him and he still loves me it’s just not the deep love that two people share like when you are… . when you’re soul mates.”

“Uncle Floyd must have loved you enough to spend the rest of his life with you if he asked you to marry him.”

“Well looking back I was blinded and stupid. I knew he really didn’t love me for the same reasons as your mother,” saying this as she didn’t want to continue with the rest of the conversation.

“What, that he too missed his opportunity regarding his soul mate?”

“Sort of but… it’s… a tad more complicated than that… .,” as if she were searching for the right words.

“Aunt Gracie? . . . . Aunt Gracie?’

“It was all such a long time ago.”

“What?”

“College. That is where your mother’s true love was found… . I was dating Floyd, sophomore year, and his brother came to visit with his newest girlfriend for homecoming… that girlfriend was your mother. Needless to say my sophomore and junior years were pretty rocky for me… I almost didn’t graduate.”

“Why?”

A deep sigh, “The connection between your mother and Floyd was almost instantaneous. We all saw it, yet no one wanted to admit it. Over time it grew harder for me to stand by and watch and eventually we broke up, and I left him… only to come back later to pick up the pieces.”

‘Are you saying… that… . that… my uncle and my mother dated?”

“As I said, it was more than that… and it’s complicated. See your mother and…”

“Wait, wait… . my father’s brother stole his girlfriend, my future mother, then somehow magically got her back and married her?”

“Well… . yes… . see your mother and your uncle were romantically involved, they were inseparable in their sophomore year and into the summer. It hurt your father something fierce, that’s why there was always been tension between the two of them and to be quite honest I don’t blame him one bit. He took that tension to his grave. Your father was never the kind of man to ask for help regarding himself, yet when your mother passed away he had no one left to turn to. He opened the door just enough to let you into our lives but he stood in the doorway, never entering.”

“You said they were involved into the summer, but?’

“Yes, but then something happened between your mother and your uncle.”

“What was that?”

“I’m not sure… he won’t talk about it, never has and I think he never will. The two of them started to part ways in the beginning of their junior year. I was still very much in love with your uncle and your father was still very much in love with Carolina, it seems that the heart never fully recovered for each of us. You kind of gloss over things when blinded by love. So… so as I was saying, they started to part ways and I think we both just chalked it up to them both being free spirits. If you have two free spirited people each wanting something completely different in life, then no amount of love can be enough to hold them together. Anyway, their junior year was on again off again and Carolina couldn’t take it anymore and eventually dropped out of school midway through the second semester and went back home. It was probably a year or so later that she ran into your father. You father picked up exactly where he left off, just like me. It took some time for Carolina to come around, especially since your father was Floyd’s brother, but she finally said yes to marriage. She didn’t see Floyd until their wedding and it was awkward at best, your father lifted his hard-pressed foot from the floor because he didn’t even want to invite his only brother but your mother wanted him there. Floyd and I got married shortly afterwards and looking back on it, I think it was for spite rather than love, besides a political career just looks better with a wife by your side.”

“Aunt Gracie, you really can’t mean that?”

“Looking back at it after all these years… I think I really do… but I cannot complain, I’ve had a good life, I have lots of family, though no children of my own, I always considered you my daughter. I was able to watch you blossom into a great sophisticated woman… . your mother would be so proud… . I’m so proud of you Jorja,” seemingly holding back the tears.

“Aunt Gracie…,” Jorja so wanted to ask more questions, deeper questions, but she could see her aunt was trying to not cry, so she reached across and grabbed her hand.

“It’s alright child… like I said I’ve had a good life… . I have loved in this life… maybe I feel a tinge of regret because I have not been loved the way I always dreamed of… but…”

“But Aunt Gracie… I do love you.”

“Yes I know, I know child, I love you too, so very much… it’s just that…,” and the tears started to roll down her cheeks, as though she just had an epiphany. She stood up to grab a tissue from Floyd’s desk and Jorja stood up as well. The hugged each other for awhile and neither said a word until Aunt Gracie caught her composure. “I still have much to tell you about your mother and what a wonderful person she truly was.”

“Another day perhaps?”

“Some day real soon, my child.”

“Aunt Gracie… . thank you… . thank you for always being there for me… I know I don’t say it enough… I do love you… I love you like a mother.”

“Thank you for making me feel so proud, I love you too,” and with that they each wiped their eyes and headed back out to the family room where the rest of the family was still hanging on Uncle Floyd’s every word.

Now Jorja had a lot on her mind. She had a beyond a reasonable doubt that just maybe, just maybe her uncle was her father, especially learning of their romantic involvement. She could easily see two people being such in love, were always going to be in love with each other, then one day out of the blue they reconnect. She also had in that analytical mind of hers the fingerprints on the boat. Why were my uncle’s prints on that boat? Only one person really knew the answer to that and she would eventually have to talk to him.

 . . .