From an airport terminal window, Mabel stood with Rochelle and watched in numb shock as attendants loaded Tobias's casket upon the plane. A few uniformed police officers stood by to keep order in case the press or onlookers crowded about. A solemn moment pervaded the atmosphere. Rochelle turned away after the first glance at the casket, oddly the same color of bronze as in her dreams, it chosen by the local funeral home. A torrent of confused feelings tumbled one on top of the other, and strongest among them was the vision of the moment when her finger pressed the trigger. Tobias was dead, and she was free. Oddly, she had not even noticed until now how truly free she did feel. The old fears, nursed for nearly all the years she knew Tobias, had vanished. The tension was gone in her shoulders. The anxiety and dread had disappeared.
“Mabel, I'm going to miss you. You are a valued friend, and I hope our paths will cross again. Perhaps when I am settled and have my life together again you'll take a vacation and come for a visit.”
“We never know what's ahead of us, do we?” Mabel asked, thinking more on the past than the future. “I'll miss you, too, Sweetpea. You have taken a special place in my heart. I do hope you will keep in touch and let me know how you fare.”
“I will, I promise. Keep the car and drive it. If I never come back, then it is yours. Please tell Michael...” tears rushed to her eyes, and she cleared her throat, swallowing the lump before she could finish her statement.
“Tell him, for what it's worth, I will always hold him dear.”
When they announced passengers could begin boarding the plane, she hugged Mabel fiercely. Then turning without looking back she hastened to the loading chute, little realizing that in an unobservable area behind where she and Mabel stood a minute ago was Michael.
When Rochelle was out of sight, Mabel joined Michael.
“Mikey, are you really going to let her walk out of your life like this?”
“It's what she wants, Mabel. I don't have much choice.” His face was pale, and his ravaged appearance denoted another night without sleep.
“She's upset, confused, distraught, and assaulted by enormous emotions, but one thing is certain, she loves you. Even if she does not realize it, she needs someone now more than ever before. When the total shock of all that has happened wears off, I am afraid of what the outcome will be. Michael, what she has gone through, and still has to go through, is more than most women could endure.”
“Your concern is generous, Mabel, but she made her choice, and I wasn't it.”
“Mikey, let's go get a cup of coffee. I need to talk to you about some things. Maybe after you hear what I've got to say, you'll understand why she left you.”
They found a coffee shop and ordered two cups.
“Mikey, do you have any idea what it feels like to feel dirty, soiled, unclean, and tarnished? Do you know what it is like to feel such humiliation and shame that you lose your nerve to face someone you love? She feels unworthy of you. She thinks she is not good enough for you. I have seen her shudder and cringe at the thought of people seeing her and Tobias upon that bed. That alone is enough to send her to a psychiatrist's couch. I am telling you she is not entirely competent at this time to know what she wants. She is confused and disoriented.”
“Mabel, I know there must be a point to all this. There's not a thing you can tell me that I haven't gone over in my mind numerous times.”
“I am not trying to interfere in your life, Mikey, but you know yourself it was your jealously that tore the two of you apart. It frightened her terribly after what she went through with Tobias. He abused her sexually, mentally, and physically, and it is a wonder she can function normally at all. She has been through hell, and it is not over yet. If you think what you suffered in jail was so bad, just imagine yourself being brutally raped nearly every night of your life for years.”
Mabel watched Michael's face contort in fury and anguish, and she could not know that he was recalling the gentle confession on the night he had first made love to Rochelle. That has never happened to me before, she had said, referring to the first climax she had ever experienced. I never realized it could be like this.
“Save your fury, Mikey,” Mabel retorted, misunderstanding his facial expression. “You'll need it for the rest I have to tell you.”
“Mabel, no more,” his voice vibrated with fury and pain. “Good God, no more.” He cupped his face in his hands, his elbows resting on the table. Then he began trembling all over.
“There are the ticket windows, just beyond that door,” Mabel said suggestively. “She needs you, even if she doesn't believe it right now. If I did not know how much she loves you, I would never suggest such a thing. But she does love you.”
Mabel watched the storms blowing across his face, and she truly thought he was going to have a heart attack. Then his features changed ostensibly, in slow motion, from fury to thoughtfulness, then to determination, followed by meek tenderness.
“An attorney whose name is Bentley Harrison will know where to find her,” Mabel added when she was sure he had taken the bait.
Then a self-satisfied smile pressed little dimples in her cheeks as she continued watching the expression on Michael's face changing.
SOON AFTER MICHAEL STEPPED off the plane in Miami, he found a phone book, looked up Bentley Harrison's address, and rather than call him, took a taxi to the man's office.
The secretary was a sophisticated middle-aged woman, well dressed, and extremely polite. “Good morning, Sir, how may I help you?” Her smile was as pleasant as her disposition
“I'd like to see Mr. Harrison,” Michael replied in a businesslike manner.
“Do you have an appointment, Sir?”
“No, please tell Mr. Harrison I'm Michael Matheson and have just arrived from Montana.”
Maintaining a guise of cool politeness, she nodded, and picked up her phone. “Mr. Harrison, Mr. Michael Matheson of Montana is here to see you, Sir.” She listened to the response a moment then put the phone down.
She sent Michael another warm smile. “Mr. Harrison will see you now,” she said, standing and leading the way to the office door.
She opened it and stood aside for him to pass, sending him another friendly smile as she closed the door behind him.
When Bentley Harrison rose from his chair, his more than six-feet height towered above Michael by an inch or two. Michael judged him to be about the same age his father would have been, in his late fifties. He looked at Michael through eyes that never lost their worried expression, but his smile was genuine and his handshake firm.
“Mr. Matheson, it's good to meet you. I was sorry to hear the sad news about your father's death. Mrs. Chandler told me a little about you, and your generosity in helping her. Have a seat,” he said, pointing toward one of the chairs facing his desk. “What can I do for you, Mr. Matheson?”
Michael lowered himself into the black leather chair. “I'm here to give whatever support I can to Rochelle, but I was hoping you might tell me the disposition of Chandler's drug operation.”
“It's very favorable. Every suspect proven to have ties to Chandler or his drug smuggling and distribution operation is in custody, including the guards that worked at his estate. If you have kept up with the news, you know its one of the biggest drug bust Miami has ever known. Cops, police officers, two judges, and several other public officials are now in custody. I understand the DA has a strong case against them. Tobias's death was a boon for the DA. He can terminate the deals made to perpetrators on behalf of testimony against Tobias, and everyone involved will likely serve full sentences.”
“I bet a lot of folks here in Miami can breathe a lot easier now.”
“Oh, you better believe that,” Harrison smiled. “Is Rochelle expecting you?”
“No, she isn't, but I'm concerned about her present mental state, I hope I can offer support and help her thought this. She's been through a great trauma, and while she seems to be bearing up under the pressure, I know she is severely stressed.”
“I came to that same conclusion when I met her at the airport. I am to meet her in an hour. You're welcome to wait and we can go together.”
“Thanks, but if you'll tell me where to find her, I'd just as soon go ahead.”
“She's at Chandler's estate. She wanted a chance to pack up some of her personal things before we met. I took the liberty of putting a guard on the gate, so you might have a problem getting in.”
He picked up one of his business cards, and handed it to Michael. “Show this to him, and have him call me if there's a problem. I believe you already know where it is?” Amusement spread across his face, as he recalled Rochelle's narration of her rescue by Michael.
“I obviously have no secrets from you, Mr. Harrison,” Michael said with light mockery, and stood up.
Harrison shot him a smile. “I was a friend of her family since before she was born. I am her Godfather, you know. I think of her as my own daughter, and I believe her confidences show a similar affection for me.”
“Thank you, Sir,” Michael said respectfully, reaching out his hand. “I'm certain we'll be seeing each other again.” Michael picked up his bag, which contained two changes of clothing, extra shirts, his electric razor and toilet articles. He left Harrison's office.
Michael took a cab to Chandler's estate where he inquired at the gate if Mrs. Chandler was home before dismissing the taxi.
“She's home, Sir,” said a uniformed, off-duty, police officer, “but I can't let you go in there.”
“I expected that,” Michael told him, producing Harrison's business card. “Mr. Harrison said to call him if there is a problem.”
The guard picked up the phone and dialed the number, greeted the voice on the other end, then looked at Michael. “Your name, Sir?”
“Michael Matheson.”
The guard said the name in the phone, listened, and hung up.
“You may go in,” he said, going into his tiny cubicle to press a button that opened the repaired gate.
Michael dismissed his cab and stepped inside the gate, hearing it whine shut behind him. There were no dogs, no other guards, and no activity at all going on. The estate seemed nearly ghostly quiet and death-like. He began the hike up the long driveway to the house, reminded of Rochelle's mention of riding her bike on the driveway.
The thought made him think of a sad young woman, alone, lonely, and no one to turn to when the world seemed fraught only with misery and pain. It was a humbling thought.