Authors: Arlene Sachitano
"Have you noticed who isn't here?” Aunt Beth whispered.
Harriet looked around. Everyone they needed was either in the room or at the gravesite outside. She looked back at her aunt.
"Carlton's here without Bebe,” Beth said. “You don't see that every day."
"I don't blame her for staying away,” Harriet said. “She didn't know Gerald, and these people are his friends, not hers."
"I suppose,” said Aunt Beth. “Young people don't seem to value funerals anyway."
Harry was still outside when a tall sandy-haired man who looked to be in his early thirties approached them.
"Are you Harriet?” he asked.
"I am."
"I'm Harry's friend Nick. He called me this morning and said you wanted to talk to my father."
"I do, but how did you know who I was?"
"I asked Senora Escorcia. She knows everything.” His cheeks pinked slightly. Harriet was once again impressed with Connie's mystique even after all these years.
An older man with short gray hair and a worn-looking blue suit joined them.
"Harriet, this is my dad, Bill,” said Nick. “Dad, this is a friend of Harry's mom who is trying to figure out what happened to his dad."
"Nice to meet you,” Harriet said.
Bill held his hand out to shake hers but dropped it with an embarrassed laugh when he realized her right arm was strapped down and she had a cup of juice in her left hand.
"Nice to meet you, too,” he said. “Nick here tells me you wanted to ask me a few questions."
"I do,” Harriet said. She looked at Nick.
"I'll just go get some punch,” he said and backed away.
"I wanted to ask you about Foggy Point Fire Protection back when Gerald worked there."
"You probably know it wasn't called that back then,” he began. She nodded, and he continued. “Those were some strange times. I'm going to tell you something and ask you not to tell anyone else. If anyone asks me about it, I'll deny it."
"Go ahead."
"Times were tense before Gerald left. Carlton's daddy Marvin was a harsh man. He was struggling to come up with a product that would earn him the kind of money he wanted to be making. Each time one failed, he blamed whoever was working on it. He could never admit that some of his product choices were ill-advised, or even that it was only natural that some of the fibers Gerald invented just didn't do what they expected them to."
He paused and stared out the window. Harriet knew he wasn't seeing the lawn outside.
"Whenever a project failed, Marvin fired someone. Sometimes more than one someone. I had a houseful of kids, and I couldn't afford to lose my job maintaining those pressure machines. I'm not proud of what I did, but given the same circumstances, I'd do it again."
"And that was?"
"Let's just say I built in my own job security switch, deep inside the most complex and expensive machine,” he said, not meeting her eyes. “And it did the job. When Gerald left, Marvin started laying everyone off and replacing them with younger people. People who didn't know how to handle complicated machinery."
"And no one ever found it?” Harriet asked.
"If he'd hired a competent machinist they would have found it easily enough, but he fired me, I flipped the switch, and the young man he replaced me with couldn't find it. A week later, I was back. No explanation. I got a call telling me my firing had been rescinded and I should report to work."
"Do you remember what products you were making back then?"
"Gosh,” he said and rocked back on his heels. “I know we started making the fireman's turnouts just after Gerald left. I remember that because I had trouble getting the pressure right on the machine, and all we had were Gerald's notes from the prototype run."
Harriet remembered the square of black material in her pocket. She pulled it out and handed it to him.
"Does this mean anything to you?"
"Oh, my gosh,” he said. “How could I have forgotten?"
"You recognize it, then?"
"This was supposed to be our big success story,” he said, and rubbed it between his thumb and forefinger. “This was our attempt at body armor.” He smiled slightly at the memory.
"This was right around the time of the first Gulf War. Maybe a little before, I'm not sure. Gerald had come up with this great lightweight fabric. Many of the early body armors were heavy because you had to have so many layers of the protective fabric. This stuff could stop a bullet with one layer, and for insurance you could use three and it was still half the thickness of the competitor's offerings."
Harriet could see where this was going. “Until it got wet,” she said.
He gave her a long silent look. “Bingo. It was great as long as the soldier didn't sweat. It could take cold water. But warm rain or sweat and you might as well have been naked."
"But you said they'd had other products fail,” Harriet pressed.
"That they had. Anyway, I can't tell you what happened after that. We made a bunch of prototypes that were sent to DC for testing. Word came back about the warm water problem, and that was that. People were fired. Up to that point, it was business as usual."
"Then what?"
"They laid off everyone who had worked on the body armor. Gerald disappeared. At first we wondered if this time he had gotten the axe, but that made no sense. He was the brains behind the operation."
Bill had slowly edged them toward the table that held the coffee carafe. He poured himself a cup and asked Harriet if she wanted any. She didn't.
He moved away from the drinks table and continued his story.
"We got word that Gerald had been killed in a car accident in Malaysia. The fireman's turnouts took off, and we never looked back. Money was rolling in, we all got raises. They even hired back a few of the old crew to help manage the machinery."
"Why would Gerald fake his own death?” Harriet asked.
"That I don't know,” Bill said. “I wish I did."
"Thanks,” she said. “You've been very helpful."
"If you think of any questions I can answer, feel free to call,” he said and drifted off into the crowd.
Harriet made her way over to Jenny.
"Anything?” she asked quietly. The family had entered the hall while she was talking to Bill.
"So far, they're just talking about how sad they are. They seem genuinely perplexed about what their Gerard was doing here."
"Thanks,” Harriet said. “Keep with them, just in case. I'm going to see how Connie and my aunt are doing with Pete."
True to form, Connie had worked her magic quickly. She'd confronted Pete and, according to Aunt Beth, he'd cracked like an egg.
"Gerald called him,” Connie reported. “After Pete got over his shock, Gerald asked him to keep his mom out of Foggy Point for a few days. He said he wouldn't ask him if it weren't life or death. He swore him to secrecy and said he would tell him everything when he saw him again and promised that it would be soon."
"Pete trusted his daddy,” Aunt Beth said, picking up the story. “He doesn't know anything else.” She shook her head. “You'd think at his age he would have demanded a few more answers."
"I certainly would have demanded more information before I did something that big for my father,” Harriet agreed.
Aunt Beth gave her an exasperated look.
"Okay, so maybe I'm not typical,” Harriet said with a sigh. “By the way, have either of you seen Aiden? He had to go to work this morning, but I thought he meant to be here before the ceremony started."
"Maybe he got hung up at work,” Beth suggested.
Harriet scanned the crowd and stopped when she noticed Lauren nodding at her.
"Have you got something?” she asked without preamble when she'd worked her way through the people to Lauren's side.
"Carla's car is in the middle of a forested area down below Miller Hill Road.” She turned her phone toward Harriet. The display showed a small aerial photo. A dark spot that must be the car sat inside a ring of trees. “From the ground, it's probably well hidden."
"What's that?” Harriet pointed at another car-sized blob. This one sat out in the open between the ring of trees and the roof of a building.
Lauren punched a series of buttons and magnified the area containing the other car. “Looks like an SUV, maybe a Bronco,” she said.
"Aiden's car,” Harriet said, a knot forming in her stomach.
"Come on,” Lauren said. “My car's closer."
Harriet was too shocked to answer. She followed Lauren out a side door that led to the parking lot.
"I think we should go up to the park and see if the hill is high enough to see where the clearing in the trees is. It doesn't look like there's a road through that part of the forest. Someone must have done some off-roading,” Lauren said as they drove. “Have you called Aiden?"
Harriet pulled out her phone and punched in his number. His phone rang then went to voice mail. “Nothing."
Lauren pulled into the parking lot at Miller Hill and got out, but she had to hustle to keep up as Harriet all but ran up to the rocky outcrop that overlooked Foggy Point Fire Protection. The outbuildings were between them and the main plant.
Harriet scanned the woods around the factory. There were several small buildings that could be the one in Lauren's picture. She carefully studied the trees around each one.
"Look,” she said, pointing to a windowless tin shed. See the area of trees right down there?” She pointed to a spot below them. “Doesn't it look like there could be a gap there?"
"One way to find out,” Lauren said. She pressed the electronic door lock on her key chain, pocketed her keys and followed Harriet to the path that led toward the forest.
The black flats Harriet was wearing weren't the best choice for descending a steep rocky trail. Lauren's black sandals were even worse. The two women slipped and slid to the edge of the woods.
"I think we need to go to the right,” Harriet said and left the trail, picking her way through the tall grass and working toward a break in the undergrowth that would allow them to enter the stand of trees she hoped hid the gray Mercedes.
The going was easier under the dense canopy of trees. It was difficult for underbrush to grow, given the sparse sunlight, and that worked in their favor. They picked their way through the trees for ten minutes, trying to walk as silently as they could and not talking for fear the distraction might cause one or the other to fall. Harriet led the way.
"I think I see the car,” she whispered finally, and waited for Lauren to come alongside her. “You wait here,” she continued, “just in case someone else is here. I'll go up to the car and see if Carla's inside. If she isn't, and no one appears, come out and we'll go whichever way the car came in."
Lauren was punching buttons on her phone. “FYI, we have no cell reception,” she said. Harriet wasn't sure if that meant she was agreeing to wait in the woods, but if she didn't, there wasn't time to argue about it. She crept into the clearing and over to the car.
Carla wasn't inside. Harriet circled it but couldn't see anything out of the ordinary. Lauren had waited, but when no one else appeared, she joined Harriet.
"So, where do you think Carla is?” she asked.
"I have no idea,” Harriet said with a sigh. She looked around the small clearing again. “Look over there,” she said, and pointed to the edge of the forest behind the car.
"Well, duh,” said Lauren. “Isn't it kind of obvious the car came from the area behind it? I mean, you didn't really think whoever put it here turned it around just in case someone found it, did you? Maybe they thought someone clever enough to find this hidey-hole wouldn't be clever enough to follow the car-sized trail back through the woods."
"Okay, you're the most brilliant. Would you just shut up so I can think a minute?"
Lauren was about to say something, but a look at Harriet's face changed her mind.
"I think we should split up,” Harriet said finally. “You just said we have no cell reception, right?"
"Yeah,” Lauren said carefully. “What are you planning?"
"Aiden's car must be right through there,” Harriet said, and pointed. “I want to check it out and see if he or Carla is in it. If I don't find anything there, I'm going to see if I can get into that outbuilding."
"What if they
aren't
there?” Lauren asked.
Harriet looked at her. “I can't think that far ahead. You go back up to the park and call the police and tell them we found Carla's car. Bring them back here. If I haven't found Carla or Aiden by then, the police can figure out what comes next."
"I don't like the idea of leaving you here alone,” Lauren said in a rare show of concern. “Someone must have overpowered Aiden, and he's a lot bigger and stronger than you are."
"If you bring the police here quick enough it won't be a problem."
Lauren sighed but didn't say anything. She turned and disappeared into the woods in the direction they'd come from.
Harriet left the clearing in the opposite direction. As Lauren had predicted, Carla's car had cut a pretty wide swath through the trees and underbrush. As she got closer to the outer edge of the woods, it became obvious some attempt had been made to conceal the car's passage.
Aiden's car was visible as she reached the edge of the trees. She paused and studied the car and then the outbuilding beyond it. Birds were singing, and a slight breeze rustled the treetops, but no other sound disturbed the quiet.
She slowly approached the Bronco, both anxious to look inside and afraid at the same time. She circled the vehicle. There was no apparent damage. She went to the driver's side door and rose onto her tiptoes to peer inside. Aiden's cell phone sat in the console under the radio. His keys were on the driver's seat. She reached for the door handle.
"Let's just stop right there,” said a female voice from behind her. A hand dug into her injured shoulder and pulled her around.
"Bebe,” she said. “What are you doing here?
"Well, I
was
coming to move Aiden's car, but I guess there's no point now."
"Where is Aiden? And where is Carla?"
"Oh, they're all in the garden shed getting ready for a barbecue. Here,” she said, and yanked Harriet by her bad arm again. “You can go join them."