Total Control (38 page)

"I'm sorry. I seem to lose it every time you two show up." Sidney spoke slowly, her eyes clamped shut. She seemed smaller than Sawyer had remembered, as though crisis on top of crisis were causing her to collapse inward.

"Where's your little girl?" he asked.

"With my parents," Sidney replied quickly.

Sawyer nodded slowly.

Sidney's eyes fluttered open and then closed again. "The only time she's not asking for her father is when she's asleep," she added in a hushed voice, her lips trembling.

Sawyer rubbed tired eyes and drew closer to the fire. "Sidney?"

She finally opened her eyes and looked at him, gathered around her shoulders the blanket she had taken from the ottoman, lifted her knees to her chest, and settled back into the chair. "Sidney, you said you went to the crash site. I happen to know that's true. You remember running into somebody out there? My knee still aches."

Sidney started, her eyes seeming to dilate fully and then slowly recede as she stared at him.

Sawyer continued to look at her. "We also have a report from the deputy on duty that night. Deputy McKenna?"

"Yes, he was very nice to me."

"Why did you go there, Sidney?"

Sidney didn't answer. She wrapped her arms tightly around her legs. Finally she looked up. However, her eyes were fixed on the opposite wall rather than on the two agents. She seemed to be looking over a great distance, as though she were reaching back to the painful depths of a great hole in the earth; to a dismal cavern she had thought at the time had swallowed her husband.

"I had to." She abruptly closed her mouth.

Jackson started to say something, but Sawyer stopped him.

"I had to," Sidney repeated. The tears started to tumble again, but her voice remained steady. "I saw it on TV."

"What?" Sawyer leaned forward anxiously. "What did you see?"

"I saw his bag. Jason's bag." Her mouth trembled as she said his name. One shaky hand fluttered to her mouth as though to corral the utter grief concentrated there. Her hand dropped back down. "I could still see his initials on the side." She stopped again and dabbed at a tear with the back of her hand. "It suddenly occurred to me that it was probably the only thing ... the only thing left of him. So I went to get it. Officer McKenna told me I couldn't have it until the investigation was over. So I went back home with nothing. Nothing."

She said the word slowly, as though it summarized the desolate status of the life she had left.

Sawyer leaned back in his chair and looked at his partner. The bag was a dead end. He let the silence persist for about a minute before he began speaking again. "When I said your husband was alive, you didn't seem to be surprised." Sawyer's tone was low and calming, but there was an unmistakable edge to it.

Sidney's response was biting, but the voice was tired. She was obviously running out of steam. "I had just read the article in the paper. If you wanted to see surprise, you should have shown up before the paperboy did." She wasn't about to go into the humiliating experience at Gamble's office.

Sawyer sat back. He had expected that very logical answer, but was still gratified to hear it from her lips. Liars often opted for complicated stories in their effort to avoid detection. "Okay, fair enough.

I don't want to drag this conversation out, so I'm just going to ask you some questions and I want some straight answers. That's all. If you don't know the answer, so be it. Those are the ground rules. Are you willing to do that?"

Sidney didn't respond. Her weary eyes swung between the two FBI agents. Sawyer hunched forward some more. "I didn't make up those accusations against your husband. But in all honesty, the evidence we've uncovered so far does not paint a real benign picture of him."

"What evidence?" Sidney asked sharply.

Sawyer shook his head. "I'm sorry, I'm not at liberty to say. But I will tell you it's strong enough for an arrest warrant to have been is sued for your husband. If you didn't already know it, every cop in the world right now is looking for him."

Sidney's eyes glistened as the incredible words sunk in. Her husband, a fugitive sought worldwide. She looked at Sawyer. "Did you know all this when you were here the first time?"

Sawyer's expression became slightly pained. He finally said, "Some of it." Sawyer shifted uneasily in his chair while Jackson picked up for his partner.

"If your husband didn't do the things he's accused of doing, then he's got nothing to worry about on our end. We can't speak for anybody else's agenda, though."

Sidney riveted her gaze on him. "What do you mean by that?"

Jackson shrugged his broad shoulders. "Let's say he didn't do anything wrong. We know beyond doubt that he wasn't on that plane.

So where is he? If he had maybe missed the plane by accident, he would've gotten on the horn right away to you, to let you know he was okay. That didn't happen. Why? The partial answer to that is that he's got himself involved in something not exactly legit. On top of that, the kind of planning and execution we're looking at on this one leads us to believe that it's more than a one-man show." Jackson paused and looked over at Sawyer, who nodded slightly. Jackson continued. "Ms. Archer, the man we suspect actually sabotaged that plane was found murdered in his apartment. It looked like he was getting ready to leave the country, but somebody had a change in plans for him."

Sidney mouthed the word slowly. "Murdered." She thought of Edward Page lying in a vast pool of his own blood. Dying right after talking to her. She pulled the blanket tighter around her. She hesitated, debating whether to tell the agents about talking with Page.

Then, for a reason she could not precisely pinpoint, she decided not to. She drew a deep breath. "What are your questions?"

"First, I'll let you in on a little theory of mine." Sawyer paused for a moment, compiling his thoughts. "For the moment, we'll accept your story that you went down to New Orleans on a whim. We followed you down there. We also know that your parents and your daughter left this house shortly after you did."

"So? Why should they stay here?" Sidney looked around the interior of her once beloved house. What is here anymore except misery.)

"Right. But see, you left, we left and your parents left." He paused.

"If this has a point, I'm afraid I'm not getting it."

Sawyer abruptly rose and stood with his broad back to the fire while he looked down at Sidney. He spread his arms wide. "There was no one here, Sidney. The place was completely unguarded. Regardless of why you went to New Orleans, it had the effect of drawing us off. And that left no one watching your house. Now do you see?"

Despite the fire's warmth, a sudden chill stalked through Sidney's veins. She had been a diversion. Jason knew the authorities had been watching her. He had used her. Used her to get at something in this house.

Sawyer and Jackson watched Sidney carefully. They could almost see the powerful mental gymnastics flowing behind her forehead.

Sidney looked our the window. Her eyes swept across the gray blazer lying over the rocking chair. The disk resting in the inside pocket. She suddenly wanted to hasten this interview to an end.

"There's nothing here anyone could want."

"Nothing?" Jackson sounded skeptical. "Your husband didn't keep any files or records here? Nothing like that?"

"Not from work. Triton is very paranoid about things like that."

Sawyer slowly nodded. Based on his own experience with Triton, that was one statement he could readily believe. "Nonetheless, Sidney, you might want to give it some thought. You haven't noticed anything missing or disturbed?"

Sidney slowly shook her head. "I haven't really looked, though."

Jackson stirred. "Well, if you don't have an objection, we could search the house right now." He looked over at his partner, who had raised his eyebrows at the request. Then Jackson looked at Sidney, waiting for her answer.

When she didn't deliver one, Jackson took a step forward. "We can always get a warrant. Plenty of probable cause. You could save us a lot of time and trouble, though. And if it's like you say and there's nothing here, you shouldn't have a problem with that, right?"

"I'm an attorney, Mr. Jackson," Sidney said coldly. "I know the drill. All right, help yourself. Please excuse the dirt, I haven't really kept up the household chores." She stood up, slipped off the blanket, reached out for her blazer and put it on. "While you're doing that, I'm going for some fresh air. How long will you need?"

The two agents looked at each other. "A few hours."

"Fine, help yourself to the fridge. Searching can be very hungry work."

After she had walked our, Jackson turned to his partner. "Damn, she's a piece of work, isn't she?"

Sawyer stared after the lithe form as she headed toward the garage. "She sure is."

Several hours later Sidney Archer returned.

"Nothing?" She looked at the two disheveled men.

"Not that we could find, anyway." Jackson's tone was one of reproach.

She stared him down. "That's not my problem, is it?"

The two looked at each other for several moments. "You had some questions?" Sidney finally said.

When the two FBI agents were leaving about an hour later, Sidney touched Sawyer on the arm. "You obviously didn't know my husband. If you had, you would have no doubt that he couldn't..."

Her lips moved, but no words came out for a moment. "He could never have had anything to do with that plane crash. With all those people..." She closed her eyes and steadied herself against the front door.

Sawyer's features were troubled. How could anyone think someone they loved, had a child with, could be capable of anything like that? But human beings committed atrocities every minute of every day; the only living things who killed with malice.

"I understand how you feel, Sidney," the agent said quietly.

Jackson kicked a piece of gravel on the way to the car and looked over at his partner. "I don't know, Lee, things just aren't adding up with that woman. She's definitely holding back."

Sawyer shrugged. "Hell, if I were in her position, I'd do the same thing."

Jackson looked surprised. "Lie to the FBI?"

"She's caught in the middle, doesn't know which way to turn.

Under those circumstances, I'd play it close to the vest too."

"I guess I'll go with your judgment on that." Jackson's words did not sound very confident as he climbed in the car.

CHAPTER FORTY

Sidney raced to the phone but abruptly stopped. She looked at the receiver as though it were a cobra about to sink venom into her. If the late Edward Page had tapped her phone, how probable was it that others had? She put the phone back down and looked at her cellular phone, which sat recharging on the kitchen counter. How secure was that? She slammed her fist against the wall in frustration as she imagined hundreds of pairs of electronic eyes monitoring and recording her every action. She slid her alphanumeric pager into her purse, figuring that form of communication was reasonably safe. It would have to do, in any case. She put her loaded pistol in her purse and raced to the Explorer. The disk was safely in her pocket. It would have to wait for now. She had something else to do that at that moment was even more important.

The Ford pulled into the McDonald's parking lot. Sidney went inside, ordered a take-out lunch and went down the hallway toward the rest room, stopping at the pay phone. After dialing, she scanned the parking lot for signs of the FBI. She saw nothing out of the ordinary, which was good--they were supposed to be invisible. But a shiver went down her back as she wondered who else was out there.

A voice came on the other end of the phone line. It took her several minutes to calm her father down. When she stated her request, he began to erupt all over again.

"What the hell do you want me to do that for?"

"Please, Dad. I want you and More to go. And I want you to take Amy with you."

"You know we never go to Maine after Labor Day."

Sidney held the receiver away from her mouth and took a deep breath. "Look, Dad, you read the paper."

He started off again. "That's the biggest bunch of bullshit I ever heard. Sid--"

"Dad, just listen to me. I don't have time to argue." She had never raised her voice to her father like that.

They were both quiet for a moment.

When she broke the silence, her voice was firm. "The FBI just left my house. Jason was involved in... something. I'm not exactly sure what yet. But if even half of what that story reported is true..." She shuddered. "On the flight back from New Orleans a man spoke to me. His name was Edward Page. He was a private investigator. He was investigating something to do with Jason."

Bill Patterson's voice was incredulous. "What was he investigating Jason for?"

"I don't know. He wouldn't tell me."

"Well, I say we go ask him and we don't take no for an answer."

"We can't ask him: He was murdered about five minutes after he left me, Dad."

Stunned, Bill Patterson could no longer find his voice.

"Will you please go to the house in Maine, Dad? Please. As soon as possible."

Patterson didn't answer for a few seconds. When he finally spoke, his voice was weak. "We'll leave after lunch. I'll pack my shotgun just in case."

Sidney's hunched shoulders relaxed in relief.

"Sidney?"

"Yes, Dad?"

"I want you to come with us."

Sidney shook her head. "I can't do that, Dad."

Her father exploded. "Why the hell not? You're up there all alone. You're Jason's wife. You could sure as hell be a target in all this."

"The FBI are watching me."

"You think they're invulnerable? You don't think they make mistakes?

Don't be crazy, honey."

"I can't, Dad. The FBI probably aren't the only ones watching me.

If I came with you so would they." Sidney's entire body shook as she uttered the words.