Hell on the Heart (34 page)

“This sounds crazy, I know, but I have a craving for red Jello,” Cezi’s voice croaked. Speaking was painful. Five days with tubes inside her had left her throat raw, but she never ate Jello no matter what the color.

“I think that’s doable. Let me see what I can find.” The nurse disappeared through the partially closed door, leaving Cezi with plenty to do.

Twenty minutes later, the dulcet tones of her family’s rowdy chatter reached her. Laughter bubbled up inside her chest and a grin she couldn’t control stretched across her face. She closed the table, pushed it away and wiggled until she sat rather than lay like an invalid.

The door flung open. Loud, noisy gypsies spilled inside. Each carried a gift - balloons, books, plants, and stuffed animals. Hugs and kisses were exchanged all around. Her entire family included Rolf, looking pretty spry, pushed their way to her bedside.

The bedside bars disappeared. Shopping bags opened, food and drinks made the rounds. Her father perched on the edge of her bed and held her hand.

Andrej burst into an old Roma tune about a pretty maiden stolen away in the night. The entire family joined at the ribald chorus.

A bottle of sweet wine made its way to Nicholae, who lifted it to his lips and took a long swig, before passing it to Cezi. Normally, she’d have joined right in, but today she wasn’t feeling up to drinking and passed it on.

Her father’s dark eyes studied her and she gave a grin to pass it off, but as usual he wasn’t buying it. “Did you see the Indian before he left?”

He left? Why did those words always surprise her?

“He got called away, something about the Cayman Islands.”

The Cayman Islands? He’d found money connected with the case. Of course, he had to check that out. He wouldn’t have left without a good reason. He would return, she knew that to the very marrow of her bones.

Not because they had ‘unfinished issues between them’ as he’d so succinctly put it, but because he’d want to. Something drew them together. It wasn’t the sex, although she returned from the dead just for another opportunity to scratch that itch. No, he’d be back because even though he hadn’t said the words, he loved her. And she loved him.

Rolf squeezed through the crowd to sit on her other side. “How’re you doing?” A sling held his shoulder in place, but the pain in his eyes was gone. He didn’t grimace with each step.

“Better,” She said. “You?”

Rolf beamed, nabbed her chin and gave her a playful smack on the lips. “Everything’s going to be okay. Has the Indian gotten hold of you yet?”

“So, I’m sitting right next to him, when the President of the United States calls him on his cell phone to see if he has time to drop by.” Rolf laughed making a disbelieving noise. “The President? Can you believe it? I think lover boy wanted to say no, that he was waiting on you. But how do you say no to the President?”

# # #

Washington DC

“He will see you now,” a pretty young assistant in a conservative navy power suit said. “Right in here.” She glided through the maze of desks and opened the door between two secret service agents.

John had met with the President on several occasions, but never in the oval office and never one-on-one. His impression of the man was one of austere competence. When necessary he could radiate charisma, certainly enough to get him elected. But his natural state was one of quiet intelligence.

As he entered, the man rose from behind his desk and came around to greet him.

“Agent Stillwater. Good to see you.” They shook hands. Neither smiled. “Sit.” He gestured toward the couches. “I understand you have good news for me.”

“Yes, sir, I do. The FBPA has broken up a nationwide white slavery ring. We’ve located hundreds of missing American girls and are bringing them home as we speak.”

The President leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “When you say hundreds, exactly how many do you mean?”

“As of two hours ago, two hundred and sixty-seven girls have been located. We’re hoping for at least one hundred more. The details are in my report.” He handed the President a copy.

“Good work,” he placed the packet on the coffee table. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

John had voted for the man. He appeared to have a sense of what needed to be done for national security. But this would be the first time, John had asked for the White House to help in a case. “We’ve located a bank account in the Caymans with over three million dollars obtained from this venture, we’d like the funds frozen.”

“Done.” The President picked up the report and flipped through it. “I assume the information I’ll need is included in your report.”

“Yes, sir. Last page.”

The President snapped the report closed and studied John’s face. “Will there be fallout from this?”

Absolute honesty was essential, but John didn’t know the answer. “Hard to say. We’re missing a couple of the main players and we’re squeezing everybody and everything we can to see what pops up.”

“Makes sense. Update me regularly.” The President stood to indicate the meeting was at an end. John rose, relieved to be done.

 The President placed a hand on his shoulder as they walked toward the door. “What’s next on the horizon for you?”

John evaluated the question. Was the President being polite or was he seeking an answer. “Getting married.” Why on earth he blurted those words out he had no idea, but they were out there now.

“Maybe you should try living with her first, if you’re not already doing that.” John could see in his eyes he wanted to recant his statement, but decided to tough it out. “Let’s hope the voters don’t hear me giving out that advice.”

“Unfortunately living with her wouldn’t solve my problem. Czigany is a woman who needs to know where she belongs. I plan to bind her to me in every way possible – legally, financially, whatever I can think of.”

“Married my wife forty-two years ago. She believed some of those same ideas. Made me work like a dog to convince her I was the one. From experience I can you I’ve never regretted it.”

John smiled glad he voted for the right man.

Chapter Forty-Four

A week later a long line of cars left Dallas early Friday morning. Cezi rode shotgun in the first car. Her father drove, Tomas stretched out in the back.

Pump jacks were so prevalent in the oil-rich community that she imagined she could hear the CLICK-click, CLICK-click, CLICK-click clatter over the blowing air of the AC and through the closed windows. The further they drove west into central Texas the more barren the soil became. Already golden patches of burned grass appeared and it was only mid-July.

Cezi swallowed her excitement. She’d only been gone two weeks, but with everything that had happened she believed even the landscape would reflect the changes. Mesquite trees lined the blacktop ushering them into downtown Armadillo Creek.

Outside Henderson Hardware store, Mr. Henderson dressed in blue and white striped overalls, swept the drifted dirt from the sidewalk.

“Did he wave?” Cezi asked, hardly able to believe the man’s friendly gesture.

“Wave back,” Nicholae said. She did and when her father whispered ‘smile,’ she did that, too.

The heat of the day hadn’t reached its peak. In another hour everyone would retreat inside for the air conditioning, not venturing out again unless necessary until the sun set.

“The townspeople.” Nicholae tilted his head indicating the local Armadillo Creek residents. “Someone has come out to the Hollow every day to check on your progress.”

“Sheriff,” Tomas said. “Election in the fall. After all the trouble this summer, they want someone who’ll take their problems seriously. And know what to do in the time of trouble.”

Cezi laughed, realizing her father and cousin were leading her on. This was their idea of a joke. But when no one laughed in response, she frowned. “I’d never win.”

“Bull,” Tomas said. “You know tons about crime scene investigations. You’re organized. You’re so fair that if I was speeding, not only would you ignore our relationship and give me a ticket, you’d call dad to reinforce it with a lecture.”

“Just think about it. We’re having a celebration tomorrow night. Poppy’s invited some outsiders to join us so be prepared, some will probably want to quiz you.”

How did she feel?  Rotten. With a sharp knife she cut a pain pill in half and popped it in her mouth with a large swallow of water. She stared at her appearance in the full-length mirror. Bracelets ringed her wrists and tinkled pleasantly when she raised her arms to pull her hair into a bright, multicolored scarf.

Wrapping a gold mesh fringed scarf around her waist to keep her otherwise black ensemble from slipping to her knees. She’d lost weight in the hospital.

Once the townspeople saw her dressed in gypsy regalia, they’d probably stop payment on those checks. But her Roma heritage was who she was.

As quickly as that thought crossed her mind, she realized that being gypsy no longer defined her. Yes, it’d contributed to who she’d become, but she was so much more.

She skipped the community meal and settled for more red Jello. The cherry flavor was okay, but she was developing a real fondness for strawberry banana particularly with sliced bananas in the mold. If she didn’t watch herself, she’d start liking cottage cheese next.

A chuckle caught in her throat as she waltzed out the door.

Twilight over the lake was a special time. Fireflies sparkled enticing children. Water slapped the shore and crickets hummed a harmony. Bullfrogs added strange offbeat bass notes. She loved her home. The smell of burning wood encouraged her footsteps toward the festivities.

Fingers of flame stretched toward the stars. Sparks added a natural pyrotechnic display. Over the crackling, a solitary ancient voice wove a story about traveling with the caravans.

Automatically she drifted toward her family’s seating area, but searched the flame-lit faces for outsiders.

“Sit here with me.” Her father gestured to an empty space next to him on a log. “I was about to send out a rescue party.”

Before she could answer, Poppy stepped into the circle and raised his hands for quiet. “Welcome. Tonight we celebrate the return of Rolf and Czigany to the
familya
.”

Feet pounded the earth. Hooting, whistling and clapping hands conveyed the joy in her heart. Rolf, who sat a few feet from her, reached over and squeezed her hand.

“We also wish to thank those who helped us during our trial.” He read a list of townspeople who’d kept watch and called in their sightings of Cain as he drove toward the Hollow.

“And especially we want to thank Agent John Stillwater and his team.” Poppy paused. “Dare Jacobsen, D’Sean Lassiter, Skeet Monaghan, Twylla Butler and RJ Reynolds who protected us. Some here. Some at a distance.”

The air was still. The bonfire popped and crackled. Then wild applause started on the far side of the fire. From the haze of smoke stepped the entire team, one at a time. The last man dressed in black slacks and a long-sleeve shirt made Cezi’s heart sing. John, her John.