Sister Mine (23 page)

DUSTY:
The only one of us who could look at his leg was Lib, since he'd been in Vietnam.

LIB:
It was crushed. The bones were shattered. They pierced the skin in a couple places. His calf was laid open. You could see all the muscles and tendons.

(silence)

INTERVIEWER:
How did you all end up reunited?

DUSTY:
I kept going through the tunnel to see if it led anywhere and it came out into the room where E.J. was. He was digging Ray out of some coal.

INTERVIEWER:
What was going through your mind, Ray?

RAY:
When I came to, I was sure I was dead. I couldn't feel or move any part of my body. I knew my eyes were open, but I couldn't see anything. There was this heavy, paralyzing weight on top of me, but I couldn't say I was in pain.

At first, I kind of felt relief. I thought, so I'm dead. That's that. It wasn't so bad to die.

But I was hoping for heaven. I mean, I don't go to church like I should but I think I'm a fairly decent person. I try to be nice to everybody and I take care of my family. I don't steal or kill or covet other men's wives.

JIMMY:
Just their daughters.

(laughter)

RAY:
I thought I might have a shot at heaven. But if this was death then maybe this means there's no heaven. This is it. Nothingness. But my brain's still working. I'm still me. I can think. I have all my memories. But I have no senses. I can't move, I can't see, I can't hear or smell or taste. I'm like one of those brains in a horror movie that a mad scientist's keeping alive in a dish. And I'm supposed to do this for all eternity. I was really starting to panic. Then I heard E.J. talking to me. And I knew I wasn't dead.

INTERVIEWER:
Where was the boss during all this?

E.J.:
Napping.

(laughter)

E.J.:
We hadn't found Lib yet. While we were digging out Ray, I'd have to stop every once in awhile because I'd feel sick from the gas. I found this puddle of water and I'd put my head down near it to breathe. There's usually fresh air near water.

While I was doing it this one time, I noticed this shiny object against one of the walls. I crawled closer and I realized it was a hole and there was a light coming from the other side. I looked through it and saw it was a miner's hardhat, still lit.

I couldn't see Lib but we hoped he'd be over there, because if he was we would get to him.

I noticed a long crumpled piece of metal jutting out of the wall. It turned out to be a mangled part of the scoop. So I figured maybe it wasn't a solid wall but some loose coal covering the scoop.

RAY:
We dug through. It was slow going. We didn't have any tools. Our self-rescuers had stopped working, so we were at the mercy of the damp.

E.J.:
We'd been hoping for two things: to find Lib and to find a passage that might be able to lead to a tunnel we recognized.

The area was a dead end, a pocket formed behind the wreckage of the scoop. But we found Lib.

RAY:
He was in bad shape but we were able to wake him up pretty easily. We brought him back with us and we were all together.

INTERVIEWER:
What's going through your minds at this point? Surely by now you're scared.

RAY:
We've been scared all along but not terrified.

E.J.:
The terror doesn't set in at first. Not as long as you've got something to keep you busy. Like digging.

LIB:
We had four helmets between the five of us, three with working lamps. The batteries were beginning to run low and the light was already flickering on and off. We turned them off to conserve power, because once they went out, that was it. We knew we wouldn't ever see again unless we got out.

E.J.:
The thirst was the worst thing. We'd been sweating like pigs from the gas and from the digging.

DUSTY:
I was really cold. I couldn't stop my teeth from chattering.

RAY:
Plus we couldn't breathe. That's the other thing. You have to remember. We were struggling for each breath.

E.J.:
We'd all heard the stories. We all knew about miners who'd survived for a week or more without starving to death or dying of dehydration, but we knew we wouldn't have that kind of time. There was no ventilation where we were.

LIB:
We had no idea what was going on above us. We didn't know if anyone knew we were trapped yet. If Andy and Sam got out alive. If a rescue was under way.

Dusty asked me, “What do we do now?” I said, “We wait.”

INTERVIEWER:
So what's going through your minds when you accept that all you can do is wait? Did you put your fate in God's hands?

LIB:
We all did our fair share of praying. No doubt about it. But for me, I felt more like we were putting our fate in the hands of men. Specifically the miners and engineers up top who weren't going to give up until they got us out.

(silence)

DUSTY:
I remember us lying there on the rocks and E.J. said, “Man, I'd do anything for a cigarette right now.”

LIB:
And Ray said, “You gotta quit, E.J. Those things'll kill you.”

(laughter)

Chapter Twenty-One

I
'VE SLEPT FOR HOURS.
I blink in amazement at the time displayed on my cell phone. Normally, I can never sleep during the day. I check my messages. I missed two calls for jobs that I slept through and one call from Pamela Jameson.

She answers her cell on the first ring.

“Jamie has cancelled our dinner for tonight.”

Relief rushes through me. Shannon's alive and well enough to make a phone call, but that still tells me nothing about the baby.

“When did you talk to her?”

“A couple of hours ago. She says there's no reason for us to meet. She's already come to her decision. She says we can have the baby for one hundred thousand dollars. The figure is non-negotiable.”

“Wow. What are you going to do?”

“Pay it, of course.”

“Wow,” I say again. “And your husband is cool with this?”

“My husband wants a child as badly as I do,” she answers me with an edge creeping into her voice.

“No offense. It's just a lot of money.”

“The money is a problem, but it's not the biggest problem. She's made some requests of me that are making me nervous.”

I get up off the couch and walk into my bedroom, where I check my reflection in the mirror on my dresser. My head is feeling a little better, my stomach, too. The cut above my eye is not so glaring now. I examine the bruising. It's on the far side of my face so I can cover most of it with my hair.

“Such as?”

“She says she won't go back to New York. I don't blame her for that. She shouldn't be traveling, which means she's going to have the baby here. She says she's going to have it tomorrow.”

“How does she know that?”

“She doesn't. She can't. Her due date isn't for four more days but she insists it will be tomorrow. She won't let me be involved, but she expects me to stay here until the baby is born. Then she says she'll contact me. She wants to have the adoption handled here. She won't go back to New York for any reason.”

“What if the baby's late? You could be hanging out at the Holiday Inn for awhile.”

I open my closet door and start looking for something more fitting for a meeting with Cam Jack. Something funereal but with a lot of boob and leg action going on so he won't be able to concentrate.

It's been a long time since I've conversed with him, but I doubt he's changed much in that area. I doubt he's changed much in any area.

“She wants to be paid in cash,” Pamela tells me.

“Cash? Are you kidding me? She wants you to give her a hundred grand in bills? You don't find this a little suspicious?”

“It's unorthodox.”

“Unorthodox? I'll say. How do these deals usually go down?”

“They're not deals, and they don't go down.”

“How are the mothers usually paid?”

“By check or wire transfer, of course. Through a lawyer.”

“Whose lawyer?”

“In this case, our lawyer is handling it.”

“Does Jamie have a lawyer?”

“No.”

I choose a plain, long-sleeved black dress, tasteful except for the plunging neckline and the thigh-high hemline.

“Do you mind if I ask how you found her?”

“There are certain discreet ways of advertising for this type of situation.”

“Unwed Mother Weekly?”

“I don't appreciate your humor.”

“So she basically answered an ad?”

“Something like that.”

“So she came to you. No one told you about her?”

“No.”

“You told me you provided her with an apartment.”

“A lovely loft apartment. Six thousand a month.”

I'm struck temporarily speechless by the amount of money she just mentioned.

“Whose name was the lease under?” I'm finally able to ask.

“Hers.”

“You didn't rent an apartment and let her live there?”

“No.”

“How did you pay her?”

“Deposits into her bank account.”

“An account under the name of Jamie Ruddock?”

“Yes. It's all legitimate. I've seen her driver's license.”

“Fake ID. Big deal. Basically, you don't know if the money you gave her for the apartment and for food and baby things and incidentals actually went to pay for those things?”

“If they didn't, how did she get them? Who was paying for them?”

I give her a moment to think it over while I pull on a pair of black lace-top stockings and zip up a pair of black faux leather boots with a four-inch stiletto heel.

“You think this other couple she mentioned…?” she says slowly.

“I think she's been playing you like a fiddle. I think she's been letting this other couple support her, and she's been keeping the money you gave her. I wouldn't be surprised if she's going to try and get both of you to pay for a baby only one of you is going to get.”

I don't tell her that I also happen to know there might even be a third couple involved who's employed a thug to make sure they get the baby.

“And I'm willing to bet the couple that's not going to get the baby is the one who's going to pay her in cash.”

“But surely she has to realize I'm not going to hand her a suitcase full of money without having the baby and legal adoption papers in hand first.”

“No, I don't think she does. I think she thinks she has you right where she wants you, and you'll do anything she says and take any risk no matter how stupid. What if she calls you and tells you she's had the baby? Come and see your beautiful new baby, but only if you bring a hundred grand in cash with you. You say no. She doesn't care. Her swindle didn't work, but she hasn't lost anything. She has another couple lined up to adopt. And she already managed to cheat tens of thousands of dollars out of you while she was pregnant. If you say yes, I guarantee she'll take the money and the baby and run. Either way she has no intention of giving you this baby.”

“What can I do?”

I hear the first serious note of panic in her voice.

“Walk away.”

“Walk away? After all I've been through? After all we've already spent on her? After all the time I've spent planning on this baby?”

“Walk away. She already succeeded at half her game. Don't let her succeed at the other half. She's not going to give you this baby.”

“You don't understand what you're saying.”

“No, I guess I don't. I can't put myself in your shoes for a lot of reasons.”

The main reason being that I think your shoes are really ugly, I add silently.

“Maybe I can reason with her? Maybe I can threaten her? I'll tell her I'm onto her. I'll go to the police.”

“She hasn't done anything illegal.”

“Maybe she'll take pity on me.”

“I think she already has.”

This comment is met with silence, followed by the click of a hang-up.

My next call is to Kozlowski.

I think very carefully about how I should play him after what Vlad told me about him. I now know why he wants Shannon. Her baby is worth a lot of money to him. I think Shannon set up the Jameson adoption on her own and he doesn't know anything about it, but he probably arranged the other adoption and has involved Vlad's employer as well.

He's also not above physically threatening or intimidating her in order to get the baby, since he had no qualms about putting Vlad on her trail. And apparently, he's a real slimeball in general. Not that I believe every word out of the Russian's mouth, but Vlad had no reason to lie about Kozlowski, and what he said made some sense.

Kozlowski obviously hasn't found her or he wouldn't have called the hospital looking for her.

In other words, he wants Shannon bad and I know he does. My knowledge of her whereabouts will make an irresistible piece of bait.

But if I've found Shannon, he has to wonder what she would have told me about him. He has to wonder why I would be willing to give up my long-lost sister to the man she's running away from.

I leave messages for him on his cell and at his room at the Comfort Inn, telling him I know where Shannon is and I'll be willing to lead him to her for a cut of the money.

Once I've taken care of my phone calls and finished dressing, I check the time. I still have about four hours before meeting Cam Jack. I don't have any jobs lined up for the rest of the day, but that can change at a moment's notice.

I think about driving to Centresburg where there's usually more business, but I'm not eager to get any closer to my final destination.

My stomach's upset and my hands are clammy over the thought of seeing him again. I need something to calm my nerves and build my confidence. There's only one thing that works consistently for me; the problem is I can't always find it when I need it, although I constantly come across it when I don't want it.

I rack my brain trying to think of someone to screw. I haven't had a serious relationship in years, and I usually cross county lines if I feel like pursuing a casual one. I don't have time to do that now.

I finally come up with an idea. I check the time again. I'm pretty sure I know where I can find him.

I drive to the high school.

The Marine is alone, like he was this morning, sitting inside the same white Honda Civic I recognize from the mall with a Corps bumper sticker pasted on the trunk lid and a blue lace garter hanging from the rearview mirror.

He's jerking his head around, moving his lips, and hitting the steering wheel with his white-gloved hands in time to some music I can't hear.

I park a few spaces away from him and get out of my car. As soon as he notices me heading toward him, he switches the music off and puts the hat on.

He watches my approach across the blacktop and rolls down his window.

“What can I do for you, ma'am?” he calls out to me.

I don't answer him until I arrive at the side of his car and lean inside the window, giving him a good shot of cleavage.

“You can not call me ma'am for starters, although I understand it's meant as a term of respect. I was a cop for twelve years. I'm familiar with the philosophy. Good manners. It's the only thing that separates us from the animals.”

He smiles. It's a good smile. A recruiter's smile. He probably practices it in front of a mirror every morning. He even knows to make eye contact, but he's not good enough yet to fake with his eyes. There's no warmth in them. They're flat and bored: the eyes of a man who spends all his time hustling strangers and already knows before he asks a personal question that he could care less about the answer.

“Where were you a cop?” he asks.

“Here in Centresburg most recently. Before that I was a Capitol police officer.”

“What kind of training you do for that?”

“Eight weeks at FLETC.”

Some interest rises to the surface of his stagnant eyes, along with a mild admiration.

“So you're a hard-ass?” he asks, smiling.

“Something like that.”

The interest grows deeper and he lets his eyes flick up and down my body, lingering on my legs and the boots.

He's young, not much older than Clay. Not bad looking, although I've never been fond of buzz cuts. The body is nice. Broad shoulders. No sign of a paunch.

“What are you doing now?” he asks, looking past me at my car. “Working for some kind of cab company?”

“It's my own company, but it's not much.”

“If you don't mind my saying, you don't look like a cop, and you don't look like a cab driver.”

“That's part of my charm.”

“Why'd you leave the job?”

“Got tired of cleaning up other people's messes.”

“I hear that.”

“I have a lot of down time at my job.” I decide to come right to the point. “I figure you do, too. I saw you this morning, and I'm a sucker for a guy in uniform. I thought maybe we could have a little fun.”

“Are you kidding me?”

“No, soldier,” I say, smiling. “I'm not.”

He looks all around him inside his car as if he might find the answer to my proposition written out for him on a Post-it stuck to the dashboard or the floorboards.

He looks at his watch. He looks over at the empty courtyard in front of the high school that will be milling with hundreds of kids in about ten minutes.

“School's about to let out. I've got to work right now. How about later?”

“I can't later. Besides, I like to have spontaneous encounters. More exciting that way. You ever have any spontaneous encounters?”

“You mean like picking up a girl in a bar…?”

“No. That's a mating ritual.”

I lean into his open window and glance down at his crotch. I can see the outline of his erection straining against the fabric of his perfectly pressed pants. He watches me.

“I mean like having a beautiful stranger approach you in a parking lot and offer to fuck your ears off in the backseat of her cab.”

“Are you kidding me?” he asks again but this time his voice almost cracks.

He coughs to cover it up.

“Come on,” I say and start to move away from his car.

“I gotta work,” he says again but with little conviction.

I pretend I suddenly need to bend down and adjust the zipper on my boot, making sure my dress hikes up enough for him to see the lace tops of my stockings.

“There's a back road not far from here where we can park and have some privacy. You can be back as quick as you'd like.”

I don't wait for an answer. I start walking to my car, listening for the sound of his car door opening and closing. I don't hear it and I wonder if I'm beginning to lose my appeal when the slam of a door reaches my ears. I don't look behind me.

He joins me in the front seat of my car.

“Shit. I shouldn't do this,” he says.