The Blue Wall Of Silence Page 5

  Jim shook his head and gave her a small laugh. “Philip wasn’t a criminal. He never was. He was always the most honest and sincere man in the world.”

  She agreed. “I know, Philip ratted me out for eating at home on Thanksgiving.”

  “Meghan, we’ll talk about that later.” Philip clasped his hands under his chin in a prayer-like gesture. “Temple, you just returned from Iraq. Do not push your political rhetoric and your talking points on me. You know that your Washington D.C. politicians kill women and children in the Middle East for oil because the women and children they kill for oil are not their own women and children. Kill women and children overseas, not in America, is their motto. And your modus operandi. Why are women and children acceptable casualties in Iraq, but not in the United States? If women and children are acceptable casualties in Iraq, then women and children are acceptable casualties in Oregon. Do not use Meghan, as you used me, and the women and children of Iraq.”

  10

  Early the next morning, Meghan wandered the front of her house. A green throated hummingbird chirped through the loud buzzing sound of its wings, hovering near a brass bird feeder. The bird drank from the sugar water and then took off like a jet plane, banked hard to the right, and returned to Meghan’s face. “Good morning. I love you, hummingbird.” Blackbirds flew out of the white ivy trellises lining her driveway and into the green leaves filling the treetop above her white Honda Civic on the street. “Mom, there are hundreds of birds going crazy this morning.”

  Denise stared at the hand tools spread across the garage's workbench. “Your garage is a temporary tool shed.”

  “It’s from the maintenance building we bulldozed.”

  Dan carried a black five-gallon bucket of roofing tar into the garage. “Because of Hurricane Yolanda, Andrew is with Philip at the carports, fixing lose tar paper. I came here with Julie to offload the flatbed and fix Snicker’s fence. You have an orange tow sticker on your Honda.”

  With sustained winds near seventy miles per hour, Yolanda was a category one hurricane. The flatbed on the street was loaded with roofing supplies for Andrew’s carports. Julie helped Dan move rolls of tar paper into the garage. “If you leave your Honda in the street, the police will tow it.” Julie advised. “It’s been in the same place for three months.”

  “Put my Honda on the driveway next to the Bugatti. You can park Andrew’s Lamborghini in the driveway too. All the cars off the street.”

  Her mom kissed Meghan on the nose. “I have wonderful news. I’m free.” Denise danced in a circle in the garage with bright eyes, her brown hair flying everywhere. Twirling on her toes, giggling, she smiled at her new turquoise shirt from a Fashion Island boutique in Newport Beach. “I’m from the islands, Tahiti.”

  Meghan shook her head. “You’re from Big Bear.”

  “Your father had no right to make you stay down here for eating here on Thanksgiving. I left Big Bear, and I moved into the Oak Glen ranch. I’m flying to Tahiti, and I’m laying off everyone in California from work.”

  “When?”

  “I am closing our shops and restaurants today. And every farm and ranch from San Francisco to San Bernardino will be shut down as well. There will be no flowers, corn, wheat, alfalfa. Nothing will grow anywhere.”

  “Why?”

  Denise ignored her question with one of her own. She walked over to a huge storage cabinet that towered three feet above her head. “Are the brooms in this cabinet?” Denise pounded hard with a fist, making a loud banging noise on the lock. “Are the brooms in this locked cabinet?”

  “That’s a private cabinet. It’s Philip’s.”

  “Let me know what I can do before I leave for Tahiti.”

  "You think that I need you, and I do, but those who work for us are my friends, and they love you. They have children who love you more. You dress up as Santa Clause for their Christmas parties. You buy them pizza and presents. You’re from the North Pole, not Tahiti.”

  “Your father won’t let you home until you take care of your job.”

  “Oak Glen and Big Bear are impossible commutes from Seal Beach. I’ll train someone,” she offered. “It’s winter, and it’s slow in Lompoc. Tell father by spring when everything is growing again, I will have someone trained.” She rubbed the back of her neck. “I have an obligation to Andrew and his property management company, and you have an obligation to the children of our employees.” Her voice rang with command. “My Honda Civic is a perfect car for driving on the ten freeway. It has a nice stereo and speakers, a CD player. I will sign the title over to you. The air conditioner was just filled with freon. It gets good gas mileage. Whoever you find to take over my purchasing, let them drive your new company car and use a company gasoline credit card.”

  Denise insisted, “well, that’s not fair, you giving me your car. That’s an expensive car.”

  She stared intently at her mom. “I will call all my accounts and vendors at the Los Angeles Flower Mart and locally and introduce them to the new purchasing agent you hire, whoever it is you hire. It’s up to you. It’s an important job. I will have someone trained by spring for sales and logistics out of Lompoc. Keep all the businesses open and running. I don’t want to see any families out of work, not during the Christmas holidays, or ever.”

  11

  Jim Temple glanced at the time on the dashboard of his Toyota Highlander. It was almost noon. Soon, Tom Clayton would be given access to Surfside, a gated community, a couple of miles south of Seal Beach, where they’d meet in private. Temple left Oregon over a decade ago, and Philip still hadn’t healed from the brucine poisoning. Temple feared Philip would never recover. He’ll suffer for life, and for what? Doing a good deed for the FBI? And again, no good deed is left unrewarded.

  The security guard raced his tan-colored golf cart along a green hedge to a pile of dead leaves. Tom jumped from the golf cart, hurried past two metal trash cans, chained to a light post, and then slipped into the car with Jim. Long brown hair fell across Tom’s forehead. Shoving his hair to one side, he greeted Temple with a smile. “I bought you four walkie talkies. I wrote down the frequencies.” Tom held a white plastic bag in his hands.

  “Do the radio transmissions work around high-tension wires and six-story apartment buildings and beach houses?”

  “We’re about to find out tonight.”

  “Do they have FCC licensing?”

  “No. I have a map from Steve Davis with our over-watch positions, weapons, equipment, and material targets slated for destruction.” Tom replied in a calm, steady voice. “They’re having me install some small, motion-activated Wi-Fi spy cameras in Meghan’s walk-in closet and bedroom in a crossfire configuration.”

  “Crossfire configuration?”

  “Facing each other, from opposite sides of the rooms, for full coverage. They gave me night vision stuff. I’m to conceal myself on the beach at Crabs jetty and give a green light on the walkie talkie when it’s time for the distraction.”

  “What’s going on?”

  “They need a distraction to get everyone out of the house. Jennifer failed, and Steve’s pissed, so he bought an old F150 Ford truck to crash in Meghan’s front yard.”

  Temple reached into the bag for the receipts. “This receipt is for walkie talkies?”

  “Yes”

  Temple examined more receipts. “These are food and gas receipts?”

  “I did a lot of shopping and driving.”

  “I said you could do no wrong with me. The receipts are fine. You did a lot of work. This is great.” Temple made a funny face at Tom. “What’s this Green Room Delivery receipt?” He gave the sales ticket to Tom. “This receipt, for a hundred dollars and some change.”

  “Cannabis.”

  “Cannabis?”

  “I need it for medicinal purposes.” Tom reached into his pocket and pulled out a blue-colored glass pipe and a white lighter. “I’m scared to death. Jennifer and Steve kill people for fun. They have all kinds of Mossberg pistol grip
shotguns and Ruger AR-15s and pistols, hand grenades, LAW rockets.” Tom lit his bowl and took a puff off his pipe. “You want to smoke some with me?”

  “No, thanks. I’m paying you cash out of pocket.” He reached into his wallet. “Call my cell phone if there’s a change in plans or a change in the frequencies with the walkie talkies." Pleased with what Tom provided, he grabbed the map. “What time tonight, after dark?

  “Steve Davis gave me twenty-five hundred dollars in cash to install four cameras. He gave the same amount of cash to three other men. That’s ten thousand dollars. It’s crazy unless Steve has hidden information from government contractors. He won’t say. Jennifer’s pissed. But Steve gets the confidential stuff. And every time, he hits the nail on the head.”

  “I guess we’ll find out.”

  12

  Meghan was in her favorite chair when Andrew went to bed. After he fell asleep, she sat in the dark and listened to the sound of the waves breaking on the beach. Every night she did the same things here she did in Big Bear. But here, more things were happening, things so sure and so unsure. She knew the game couldn’t go on forever, and each day when nightfall finally came, she sat in her chair and listened to the waves and thought about the money.

  The cash was close enough to touch, and she wanted to tell Andrew as she gazed at a small bowl filled with mixed nuts, not eating the peanuts while pleading and bargaining with herself until finally, silently, she shouted in her mind. Stop! Please… stop it. Just stop everything, shut up and smile, stay silent about the money, or go to prison.

  Restless, she got up from her chair and wandered the house until she found herself back in her bedroom, staring at the books in Andrew’s library. She gave the endless rows of mahogany shelving a long and thoughtful look, reasoning over the money, not the books, and struggling for answers but finding none.

  More waves crashed on the shoreline when she slipped under the sheets where Andrew slept. She breathed in his scent, coconut, and soap, and turned through the facts as though they were cards in a game of solitaire. The man who killed Andrew’s family liquidated his assets. The money behind my walk-in closet was from the man who killed Andrew’s father. Andrew knows his father was killed while trying to do the same to Philip. But Andrew doesn’t know about the money in my walk-in closet, nor does Philip, or they would have told Temple, and the money would be gone. I’m sure Temple and Philip, maybe even Andrew, are protecting me from something I don’t know. She breathed in quietly with her eyes misty and tired. I really do love this place. It seems to be the strangest and the most beautiful place in the world.

  She yawned and moved under her comforter along Andrew’s body. She was warm and relaxed, but in a sad kind of way as Andrew softly stroked her body and kissed her on the forehead.

  13

  Temple walked against a cold, ocean wind. Obscure black images of kids riding skateboards in the light of a streetlamp were each a study in silence at the end of Ocean Avenue in front of Meghan’s house. Based on Tom’s intelligence, Meghan’s safety depended upon the placement of Wi-Fi spy cameras in her bedroom and walk-in closet. What Steve Davis expected to see Meghan doing was unknown, but he needed her alive to do it, so Temple knew Meghan would be safe, at least, for another day.

  A frantic spike of police-type crosstalk erupted on Temple’s walkie talkie, reminding him of soldiers in Iraq before a firefight. After checking his handgun, Temple called Philip to confirm he used the correct radiofrequency to eavesdrop and keep tabs on the situation from his walkie talkie.

  “I’ve been bird-dogging every word. Temple, don’t you fail this operation,” Philip warned.

  Temple assured Philip of Meghan’s safety as he heard Steve Davis’ voice on his walkie talkie, asking Tom Clayton for the green light to go ahead with the distraction.

  “One mistake, we will be under investigation for misconduct,” Steve said. “Give me the green light to go.”

  Tom answered from his concealed position in the jetty on the beach. “They just went to bed, and they are starting to have sex. What do you want me to do?”

  “What base?” Jennifer Davis asked from her handheld transmitter.

  “Base?”

  “What sexual baseball base is Meghan on,” Jennifer demanded. “First base, second, what base?”

  “She’s on top of Andrew, and if she does go down on him, you’ll need to spray them with a firehose to get them into the front yard.”

  “What sex base is she on?” Jennifer repeated.

  “She’s attempting to steal third.”

  Jennifer ordered. “Don’t let her steal third base. Give me the green light to go ahead now.”

  “Too late,” Tom answered. “She just stole third, and she’s sliding into home.”

  “Fine!” Fury choked Jennifer’s voice. “We’ll wait until she’s done sliding around the home plate.”

  14

  Meghan whirled around to find a sheer curtain swaying in the ocean breeze. Her gaze moved to the strong body below her. When did she fall in love with Andrew’s eyes, his smile? Her hands moved down his hard muscles, and she ached to be crushed in his arms but wanted a wedding.

  How could she keep the money a secret? Mentioning the money means I go to prison. I’m keeping my mouth shut. I won’t get married from behind bars. What about this ninety-five percent rule? All women know that a successful marriage has ninety-five percent honesty, five percent secrets rule. The money is my secret, my five percent. And having the money isn’t financial infidelity. We aren’t married. I want a wedding. But you have to be married, first, to be financially unfaithful later. What if, rainy day savings… Sixty million dollars for rainy day savings? No, lousy excuse, won’t work.

  She needed more time to think. It’s my choice, my life. I didn’t become who I am by making daredevil decisions. No, I’ll turn it over in my head, and if I tell no one, for now, I’ve done my best.

  She wanted to feel the pressure of her body against his. A desire, so strong, she could hardly breathe, but she kept some mental distance, smiled, and signed to Andrew, “I have to tell you something.” She signed to him, “last month…”

  He cut off her words with a kiss. She inched away and nuzzled her face in his chest. She could feel his eyes on her, but she didn’t meet his look. He tilted her head back and signed to her. “You want me to wear a condom.”

  “I signed last month, not a condom.”

  Andrew signed to her. “You sign month by pointing to the back of your finger. You sign a condom by pointing to the front of your finger. You pointed to the front of your finger. You signed a condom. Don’t be shy. I like condoms.”

  Breathless and dizzy, she wanted to say something about the money, but she never had the chance as he kissed her again. Feeling the warmth of his tongue, she gasped as a wave of desire crashed through her.

  She intended to stop him. “I don’t want condoms.” She knew she wasn’t being very smart, but she didn’t care. She wanted this moment. “I want you.”

  He sent his tongue into her mouth again. He pulled back and signed to her by shaking his head and pointing to himself and then to herself before sliding his hand down his chest and wiping his index finger beneath his nose. She didn’t answer Andrew. Instead, she shifted off him, rested on an elbow, and peered down at him as if not believing what she saw. Andrew just signed to me that you don’t want me. You want children. If all I ever wanted were children, I wouldn’t be using birth control. “I want you and your children.”

  Andrew signed, “you want me to wear a condom?”

  “I signed month.”

  Andrew signed, moving his hands rapidly. “You don’t have to be shy. I will wear a condom if you want.”

  Her voice thickened with frustration. “No, I don’t want you to wear a condom.”

  15

  Several cars and trucks passed Temple in starts and stops on the left side of the street. Large groups gathered at Meghan’s house. Temple searched for Meghan. Something was wr
ong. When Julie weaved her way through the children towards the gray Bugatti, he felt it, and when Dan jumped into the black Lamborghini, he knew it. They drove up First Street towards the marina. Where did Dan and Julie go?

  A flatbed diesel truck, an eighteen-wheeler, followed by a white van, rolled to a stop at Meghan’s house. Two men helped a forklift driver off-load palm trees and giant arborvitaes from the flatbed. Other men off-loaded dozens of green shrubs and trees, their tall treetops swirling in the darkness.

  High winds from Hurricane Yolanda brushed Temple’s face, and while two men placed a rock-climbing wall, with gym equipment onto Meghan’s driveway, dozens of birds flew into the trees and shrubbery. How did the birds learn about the small forest? From their chirps, he knew they nested there.

  The flatbed diesel truck and the white van departed. Dan and Julie returned and parked their cars on the street. Why park on the road? No, they can’t do this, not now. I have to call Philip. Temple alerted Philip on his cell phone. “The operation’s in trouble.”

  “I’m ready,” Philip’s voice was calm.

  “The cars on the street.”

  “That flatbed had material for a park.”

  “Why so late?”

  “A traffic accident happened on the freeway. A big traffic jam for hours. For security, we had to put everything in the driveway until tomorrow.”

  “Security?” Jim heard Tom's green light signal over the walkie talkie. A brown pickup truck soared by Temple. After a gunshot cracked, the Ford F150 swerved and smashed into Dan’s Lamborghini. The impact sent the pick-up high in the air, landing on Meghan’s Bugatti. Two figures scrambled from the cab. Smoke billowed from the truck’s right rear tire. Rubber flew in a circle, and bright sparks circled like pinwheel fireworks.