Dual Identity - Chapter 8

Chapter 8 - Friday September 13th 4:16 P.M.

“Amy,” Lara jostled her step-daughter’s shoulder where she sat in her chair, the shades in her room drawn and a hand clutched about a mug of hot tea. “Amy you need to get up and get a shower. Pull on some clothes.”

Amy didn’t move. “Lara, just leave me alone today, please?”

Lara stood there for a moment, silent. Normally she knew to leave Amy to her thoughts on this infamous anniversary. All week the agitating build-up to her growing depression of her most dreaded day of the year had taken its toll and the girl sat quiet, distraught and disheveled.

Clothed in only her pajamas, and drinking her chamomile tea by the gallon Amy seemed content to wallow in her sorrow. But apparently, Lara had decided that this was where she would draw the line.

“You have to be ready to go by five fifteen.”

Amy turned startled eyes in Lara’s direction. “I’m not going anywhere, Lara.”

“Yes you are, I promised Colleen Easton that we would come over to dinner tonight. We need to be there by five-thirty.”

“Colleen Easton? Like James Easton?”

“Yes that’s his wife.”

“As in Jimmy Easton? Like his son?”

“Yes.”

Amy scrambled up in her reading chair, nearly tipping her cup. Lara grabbed for it and set it on the side table.

“I can’t go, Lara!” Amy cried. “I just can’t. This isn’t a good day for me, and you know that.”

“I’m sorry, Amy.” Lara said. “But the plans have already been made.” Her tone softened. “Honey, I know it’s hard, but it’s time to move on.”

“Move on?” Amy howled. “You act like my dog died! It sounds so harsh, so, so cold!”

“What would your mother say?”

Silence. Amy refused to even think of the person she had been thinking of all day.

“You will always remember them and hold them dear to your heart.” Lara took Amy’s hand but the girl yanked it away.

“I don’t want to think about my mother. I don’t even want to hear her name!”

“But that’s all you’ve been doing today.” Lara once again took the girl’s shaking hands in her own and Amy didn’t try to pull away this time. “It’s time to start living again.”

Amy didn’t say anything. Lara had been through quite a bit of trauma in her day and that was why the FBI had stamped approval on the paperwork assigning her as part of Amy’s detail.

After all that’s all Amy was anymore. Paperwork.

“Up.” Lara repeated, latching onto Amy’s arms and heaving her up, the blanket slipping from her shoulders and falling into the chair like Amy wished she could. But Lara was surprisingly strong for being so small and put Amy through her zombie like motions.

“What do you want to wear?” Lara asked as the dresser drawer squeaked.

Amy put a hand over her ear. “I really don’t care.”

“Yes you do.”

“No, I don’t.” Amy didn’t have much trouble switching on the ‘teenage sass’ that Lara claimed was disrespectful. “Besides, what’s wrong with what I’m wearing now?”

There was a split second of a disapproving silence. “I don’t care how designer your clothes are you aren’t going in sweats and a t-shirt.”

“They’re Abercrombie.”

“They haven’t been washed in days.”

Amy didn’t say anything as another drawer scraped open. Then the closet door adjacent to the dresser banged as Lara rummaged through the shoes.

“You simply must be more organized.” Lara said.

Amy seethed. A blind person was always organized if they ever wanted to go around wearing matching socks. Not that anyone would tell you if you were. To many people always seemed afraid to mention anything that might insinuate something about her being blind.

“Oh, and by the way you’re wearing mismatched socks.”

~

Friday September 13th 4:12 P.M.

The SWAT team was in position. The infrared had picked up three forms in the dilapidated bungalow. According to the neighbors this place was a rental - as was most of this side of town. Two men had been seen coming and going at odd times in the night, and almost exactly two days after the whirlwind kidnapping of Amanda De Seberio, James Easton, Special Agent in Charge, was looking to put an end to the madmen.

“Bellman has eyes on the targets.” James spoke over the FBI frequency and leaned over his technician’s shoulder watching the infrared device that was canvassing the small one  bedroom shack.

So far there had been no movement whatsoever. One rainbow blob sat in the living room and two others were  in the other room. None were moving. It seemed a bit too easy to Easton but he didn’t have any other options at the moment.

“Are the snipers in position?”

“No clear shot, sir.”

Easton drummed his fingers on the desk. It was just too quiet, too still. The suspects hadn’t even been reachable by telephone or even by a neighbor. But then these weren’t your average friendly neighborhood kidnappers.

“Stahl, are your men in position?”

“Sitting pretty.” Came the crackly reply.

A new voice joined in - against protocol. “Are we gonna do this or not?”

Easton bit back a few words that weren’t Christian as Paul Lander’s voice bittered his mouth. Just because he was some big-shot in a case from half a decade ago didn’t mean he could swoop in to add his two cents to a case unfolding far faster than he could be properly briefed.

“Landers you stay in the background.” Easton couldn’t help but bark. “You don’t make a move unless I say so.”

Silence crackled for a moment as everyone waited to see if a further display of the power play was coming.

Nothing.

Easton took a deep breath and checked his gun. The plan had been carefully formulated and each team was carefully briefed on procedure. But he couldn’t help but feel a bit uneasy that something had already gone wrong.

Pushing the feeling aside and breathing a quick prayer, Easton braced himself for the one word that would set this play in motion.

“Go.”

SWAT and FBI alike descended on the house, Easton leading the way. It was all a blur what happened next. A flash bomb went off and the door splintered as a flood of Kevlar vested agents poured through the doorway.

“FBI!”

“Show me your hands!”

Through the fog in the darkened room, Easton snapped his night-vision goggles on as gunfire exploded around him.

God, if I don’t make it home tonight please let my family know that I love them.

Having ducked for cover a while ago, Easton risked a glimpse over the banister to see two figures fallen, one not five feet from the door and the other in the doorway of the bedroom.

“Cease fire!” Easton bellowed. “Two suspects down! Cease fire!”

The popping stopped, but the ringing in his ears didn’t as Easton and another agent rushed forward to secure the men.

“10-33!” Someone yelled. “Agent down, I need an EMT stat!”

Easton spun around to find Finley kneeling over a rookie and applying pressure to the back of the man’s head. His mouth went dry. No, not Hayes. He has a wife and a new baby.

Finley, a former street cop and salty FBI agent for probably longer than Easton had been alive, looked up to meet his eyes. Then gave the slightest shake of his head.

“Boy, I got a bad feeling about this one.” The words were almost lost in the hubbub of the radio as shouts and orders echoed, but Easton knew those words were meant for him.

“Clear!” Someone yelled from the kitchen.

"Clear!"

"Clear!"

“I found the girl!” Someone shouted suddenly.

The radio exploded and Easton had to bellow, “Granger, talk to me!”

“Sir,” The voice was strained and detached in an alienated way. “Sir, I think you need to come here.”

Dreading every step and cursing the day he walked through the gates of Quantico, Easton stepped cautiously over to the bedroom.

There was a moment of silence, even over the radio as everyone seemed to think of their daughter, granddaughter, niece, or cousin. Everyone sensing what had just unfolded. What they had been powerless to stop even though they should have been able to.

Easton cleared his throat. “Don’t move her. And someone find the M.E.”

Voices cluttered the radio once again. but Easton stood silently staring at the young girl, just a baby who had yet to even begin to live her life, who now lay dead on the floor, who now had her throat slashed from ear to ear.

What a cruel, cruel thing to do to a child.

~

Friday September 13th 5:00 P.M.

What a cruel, cruel thing to do to a child.

The Shadow tsked to himself as he put the car in gear. The vultures had descended upon the house and carried away the carcass he had so carefully laid out. Reporters had shown up not long after and tried to catch glimpses of the body bag or pry something further than “no comment”. Easton, the so called “Agent in Charge” had finally turned to the reporters and announced that a press release would be available at 5:30.

Much good that would do them. Heads would roll as usual for something the masses thought the Feds should have been able to stop. It was all right. He didn't like Easton much anyway and it was all for a good cause.

The poor police and FBI wouldn’t even try to connect the dots. They just wanted this gone. Wouldn’t even care to search through who had ever come into contact with the two men and retrace every one of Amanda’s steps. They wouldn’t rush the autopsies and then study the reports for any inconsistencies. To them this was just another tragic example of a kidnapping ransom gone wrong.

The Shadow snickered as he reached to feel the sharp edge in his pocket. Maybe one of these days he would let Easton in on the little secret.

~

Friday September 13th 5:35 P.M.

Ding-dong.

“Jimmy!”

Chaos seemed to be unfolding in the entryway and he could hear Violet’s chipper voice squealing something about a dog.

Groaning, he got off of his bed and threw his book across the room. Why did his mother have to be so hospitable? It was like she organized her own welcome wagon – even from three blocks away. When his Mom had said she had invited a new family from the block over for supper he wasn’t too surprised, but had wished she hadn’t.

“Jimmy!” Mom called as he rounded the corner. “Violet, honey, step back.”

Then Jimmy stopped and stared. Lara Landers stood in the entryway, a hand on her daughter’s shoulder. Amy wasn’t even trying to smile even though Lara was subtly prompting her. Apparently, she wasn’t too thrilled to be in this situation either.

“Jimmy.”

Realizing everyone was staring at him, he blinked. “Uh, yeah?”

“Take your sister, please, and keep her busy.” Mom passed his little sister’s sticky hand off to him and he grimaced at the other grasped her purple hippo. Jimmy had a feeling that if she let go of the hippo, it would stay stuck to her hand.

“Sure, Mom.” He said, looking down at his sister and wrinkled his nose. “Come on, Vi.”

“Mommy, Jimmy’s making faces at me again!” Violet all but wailed.

“Violet, hush.” Mom turned back to Lara, who adjusted her pick cashmere sweater a bit nervously. “Why don’t you come have a seat in the kitchen, I’m sorry that Todd couldn’t be here, I know he wanted too, but with the little Saberio girl being found-”

Lara darted a nervous glance towards Amy, then flashed an overly bright smile towards Mom. “That’s OK.” She said. “Paul is gone too.”

Both women smiled at each other, the moment of awkwardness fading as they seemed to realize that they shared somewhat of a bond, both being married to the Bureau. Mom took Lara’s arm and started leading her towards the kitchen.

“Lara, how about you finding a chair so that we can chat a bit before supper.” Mom was leading the way towards the kitchen when Lara suddenly twisted back around, looking at Amy, who appeared frozen in the doorway.

“Wait, Amy, can you-,”

“I’m fine.” Amy said, expressionless. “I have Jasper, and I’ll be fine.”

Lara stepped back by Mom again, and Jimmy’s mother barely hesitated as she and Lara went off to the kitchen, saying, “Hey Jimmy, why don’t you show Amy around?”

The two disappeared, and Jimmy and Amy stood awkwardly, neither one wanting to speak first, even if they had something to say.

“You don’t have to show me around.” Amy said, almost defensively. “Besides, I don’t like new places. I’ll just sit down somewhere.”

Not knowing whether to help her or not, Jimmy just kept a death grip on Violet as Amy struggled to the couch, sitting down on the edge, as if uneasy about something.

The TV was on and Jimmy reached for the remote, trying to juggle it and his sister at the same time.

“Wait, is that about the Saberio girl?” Amy asked, perking up a bit.

Jimmy half grunted a yes, letting go of Violet.

“Yeah, it’s pretty sad.”

“Wait, she’s okay, right?” Jimmy turned at the odd sound of Amy’s voice. Her face had turned deathly pale and she seemed to be holding her breath.

“The ransom went wrong.” Jimmy said slowly. “Both kidnappers and the little girl are dead.”

Amy didn’t say anything just sat frozen like a statue. Jimmy didn’t know what to say or do, but suddenly noticed his little sister scrambling up on the couch, reaching down as if to pet Jasper. In a millisecond, Jimmy scooped her up, sticky purple hippo and all.

“Put me down!” She shrieked, and Jimmy saw Amy wince. “I want to pet the doggie, put me down!” She hit at his back with her little fists, her ponytail flicking him in the face.

“Violet, stop!” Jimmy groaned, practically wrestling with her to hold her down. She probably couldn’t weigh more than fifty pounds, but with so much fight in her – Jimmy grabbed her around her middle and tickled her, her shrieks turning into that of giggling.

“Here, Violet, come sit down beside me.” Amy’s voice broke through the laughter and she patted the couch cushion.

Jimmy slung his little sister towards the couch as if going to drop her, but set her down gently. Violet scrambled over to Amy like an eager puppy.

Amy touched her arm, as if reassuring herself of who Violet was, then spoke. “Your brother is right, Violet. You shouldn’t pet a service dog without asking the owner first.”

“Can I pet him, can I pet him? Please?”

Amy tilted her head, as if weighing her next words. “Maybe later, but not right now.” She said, Violet’s face falling a bit. “You see, he’s working right now, he needs to stay focused.”

Jasper actually looked half asleep right about now, but Jimmy didn’t say anything.

Violet nodded a bit sullenly. “I guess so.”

“Violet, you know I can’t see, right?”

Jimmy’s little sister’s eyes widened and she said, “Yes.” Though, Jimmy didn’t think that that was the case.

“Do you think you could describe this room for me?”

Suddenly eager, Violet sat up her little blue eyes taking in everything in the room. “Well, there’s a little elephant decal on the coffee table that Daddy brought back for Mommy when he went to Africa. It’s really pretty, so smooth and perfectly white. It’s my job to dust it every Saturday.”

Jimmy sighed. This was obviously going to take a while. Then he noticed Amy’s smile, a sad smile. She held onto Violet’s hand tightly, as if afraid to let go.

By the time Violet was onto what the bookshelf held, she had jumped down from the couch, as if forgetting Amy couldn’t see her as she put on a meticulous show of displaying each item.

Jimmy leaned over and whispered to Amy, “Do you want me to stop her? At this rate she won’t be done until dinnertime tomorrow.”

Amy smiled. “No, see that’s the beauty of it.” She paused for a moment and Jimmy wondered if she was going to finish her thought. “You see, adults look at something, such as a painting or a room, and they see the whole picture before they start to realize the details. Children, on the other hand, they look at the details, to find out the whole picture. You’d be amazed, at how being blind not only robs you of colors and shapes and such, but it robs you of the little details, the ones that make up the picture.

“If I asked an adult to describe a butterfly, they would most likely say it was a blue butterfly with spots on it. But a child, they would probably say something about it having a million black speckles and a line dividing each wing in half. A child would describe how its little antennae would wiggle and twitch. The butterfly would also be blue.”

Amy kind of smiled. “It’s weird, I know, but if you can just try to understand-” Her sentence tapered off.

“I think I get it.”

“Hey! Are you listening to me?” Violet stood glaring at both of them, her little hands on her hips.

Amy started to answer when a loud crash! sounded from the kitchen.

Jimmy jumped, making a quick dash for the kitchen and peered around the corner. Mom and Lara stood, eyes transfixed on the laptop computer sitting in a nook. A metal salad bowl lay upended on the floor at their feet, Lara’s hands frozen in a holding position.

“Amanda De Saberio was found dead Thursday afternoon, shot in a kidnapping gone wrong.” A blonde reporter, hair whipping back and forth in the wind gripped some sheets of paper as if they were her lifeline. “Her two captors were also killed in the ensuing battle with police.”

“That was Amy’s 6th grade picture.” Lara breathed. “I would know it anywhere.”

Mom scrambled for the laptop computer, hitting a few buttons to record it to the computer. Mom hit ‘Full Screen’ just as the news camera panned over the memorial for the little Saberio girl. Flowers, pictures and little teddy bears covered a fence by the side of the road. Jimmy was aware that Amy had come up behind him, and Violet clutched his hand tightly.

“There! Right there!” Lara cried.

Mom hit the pause button, and replayed it, more slowly this time. Just as Lara squeezed Mom’s shoulder, so tightly her fingers left a print upon fabric, Mom hit the pause button again, manipulating the mouse to zoom in.

Though fuzzy, the picture the computer beheld, didn’t compute with Jimmy at first. Then he noticed the photograph, among the bows and flower, of a middle school girl with a bright smile and wearing a pink shirt. The words written in silver pen were chilling.

RIP Amy

Then he noticed it was held to the fence by a sharp, curved dagger.