The third yawn in as many minutes escaped her lips.
If only she didn’t have to work so much and could spend more time just being a mom.
But to provide for her kids she had to work, and to keep her new job she needed to finish her degree. And to do that she had to study, and when else was she supposed to read these textbooks? She couldn’t very well study at work, and then in the evenings and on the weekends the kids had all their activities. The only time she could fit it in was after her kids went to bed.
She yawned again, heard shuffling behind her, and turned. Brenda stood in the hallway holding Wally to her chest.
“What’s wrong, sweetheart?”
“Wally can’t sleep. He’s scared.”
“What’s Wally scared of?”
Brenda hugged her stuffed walrus tighter. “Monsters.”
For just a moment Alice considered trying to convince her daughter that there were no such thing as monsters, but she knew it wouldn’t work. She’d tried that before. She’d done what all parents do, opening the closet doors, flipping up the bedcovers to look beneath the bed. “See? No monsters. Now go to sleep.” But it never worked. All kids know monsters can turn invisible, so showing them empty closets never does any good. And besides, she didn’t have enough energy for all of that tonight. She needed a new approach.
Alice got up and walked over to her daughter. “Monsters, huh. Well, maybe Wally would feel better if he went to sleep in a room where there are no monsters.”
Brenda looked confused. “Where?”
“Mommy’s bedroom. No monsters are allowed in there when I’m studying my books. It’s a rule.”
“It is?”
Alice led her daughter down the hallway. “Of course.”
“Who made it?”
Alice tried to think fast. “Well, the angels did, honey. Monsters are no match for angels, you know that.”
They’d reached the bedroom. “Yeah,” said Brenda. “Everyone knows that.”
Alice pulled back the edge of the covers. “You see, the angels made a rule long ago that mommies get special protection when they’re trying to take good care of their children. No monsters allowed.”
Brenda was thoughtful for a moment. “That’s a good rule.”
“Yes it is. Now climb in.”
She pulled the covers up to her daughter’s chin.
“Mommy?”
“Yes?”
“Is there a rule about daddies too?”
“What do you mean?”
After a slight pause. “I think sometimes Daddy let the monsters in.”
Alice felt her heart hammering. “You know, sweetheart,” Alice said as calmly as she could, “all you have to remember is that the angels are watching over you tonight and the monsters are all far, far away. Now, good night.”
“Good night, Mommy.”
Alice gave her daughter a kiss on the forehead, and as she was closing the door, she heard Brenda telling Wally, “You don’t have to be afraid anymore. Mommy says the monsters can’t get in.”
Then Alice went back to the living room, thinking of Garrett. She couldn’t help it. At first he’d been so kind, so gentle, so loving. He’d been a good dad, really, teaching Brenda to read, taking Jacob fishing. Being there for them in the evenings, leaving work at work. But then he started drinking, and it all turned upside down. Everything changed. She tried not to think about the times the monster had shown up in her bedroom. Tried only to remember the other times.
Failed.
How was it possible for an angel and a monster to live in the same man?
And with that question burrowing through her mind, as hard as she tried, she couldn’t get any more studying done that night.
As we pulled into the mall parking lot I turned to Lien-hua. “Governor Taylor is something else, isn’t he?” I spoke softly enough so the driver wouldn’t hear.
“Yeah,” she whispered. “And he knows something. I don’t see how he could be involved in this case, but there’s something more going on here. He’s hiding something.” And then, anticipating my next question, she added, “Going to that luncheon gives us a chance to find out more about his interest in this case.”
She just continued to impress me. “Good thinking,” I said. “By the way, anyone important on the phone back there?”
She pointed to the man approaching the car. “Just Ralph. Nothing vital.”
Our driver pulled to a stop, and we climbed out of the car. After the driver left, Lien-hua filled Ralph in on our meeting with Governor Taylor. He grunted a little, nodded, seemed to take it all in stride. “All right,” he announced. “I have no idea what all that was about, but if we can keep him on our side it can only help. Let’s put this thing to bed for the night and get some sleep.”
“Good idea,” I said. “Hey, listen, can I borrow your phone? I need to make an important call. I’ll get it back to you tomorrow.”
Ralph grumbled but handed it over. “Battery’s almost dead. The charger is back in Asheville-”
“No problem.”
“OK. Just don’t ‘drop’ it.”
“Don’t worry,” I said. “I wouldn’t dream of it. Thanks.”
Ralph and Lien-hua decided to stay the night in Charlotte and bring the local police department up to speed while I flew back to Asheville to get an early start in the morning.
While the chopper pilot did his safety check, I called Terry Wilson, a friend in the NSA who’d worked with me on the satellite-mapping project. I caught him just as he was shutting off the light to go to bed. After a quick greeting, I jumped right into it. “Terry, I need some discreet information on Sebastian Taylor, the governor of North Carolina.”
“When you say discreet, do you mean discreet or discreet?”
“I mean I don’t want anyone else to know you’re poking around. Anyone.”
“Oh, that kind of discreet.”
“Can you do it?”
“It’s what I do best. When do you need it by?”
“What do you think?
A sigh. “Yesterday.”
“Close enough.”
“All right. Let me see what I can do. I’ll call you tomorrow afternoon.”
“Thanks.”
“You’ll owe me for this.”
“I always do.”
I dozed a little on the flight back to Asheville and took a taxi to the hotel. Just as I walked into my hotel room, the phone rang. I couldn’t believe it; the day seemed like it would never end. I picked it up. “Yeah?” I said wearily.
“Patrick Bowers.” Voice distortion software. I couldn’t even tell if the voice was male or female. “Patrick Bowers, PhD.”
“Who is this?”
A short, venomous laugh. “He is okay, I trust?”
It’s him. It’s the killer. The Yellow Ribbon Strangler!
“An inch over and you’d have killed him on the spot,” I said, scrambling to think of ways to keep him on the phone.
“Yes, of course. But you and I both know I didn’t intend to kill him-although I could have. I had a clear shot at you too, Dr. Bowers.”
