Alex’s desk was covered with wildflowers and daffodils when she walked into the classroom the next morning. It seemed that each one of her students had gone out of their way to let her know she had been missed. The unexpected delivery of beautiful white orchids surprised her the most.
I am sorry for your loss. Xian Liu.
The bold script made more of an impression than she cared to admit. It would do little good to deny that she dreamed of him. She felt her cheeks go warm at the thought. She rarely remembered her dreams when she woke in the morning. But this time, she could recall in vivid detail the touch of his fingers against her skin, the masculine scent of his cologne, the taste of his kiss. She took a deep, calming breath and banished the thoughts from her mind.
When lunchtime rolled around, Alex found she had little appetite. From her seat at a picnic table, she scanned the playground. The laughter and shouts of the children drifted over on the light breeze.
“Mind if I sit down?”
Alex shielded her eyes from the glare of the early afternoon sunlight before nodding at the man who stood on the opposite side of the wooden table. “Not at all.”
“My name’s Scott. I’m filling in for Mrs. Myles.” After taking a seat on the opposite bench, the stranger held out his hand and she shook it. His grip was strong and steady.
“Is Isabella okay?” she asked.
He smiled and tilted his head to the side. “She’s fine. Her father had an accident and she went home to help out.”
Scott had a perfect disguise. With brown hair held in place with mousse and brown eyes, he would have blended in anywhere in America. He wore brown khakis and a white button- down shirt. Only a pair of thin wire glasses differentiated him from another other white male.
Alex was startled from her thoughts by his next comment.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t get your name.”
She met his hazel green eyes with a practiced smile. She hadn’t given it. The habit of never giving out information was a carry-over from her old life in the military. “I apologize. Alex Thompson, fourth grade reading teacher.”
He leaned in closer and his expression changed from polite curiosity to concern. “I met the young woman who was substituting for you earlier this week. I’m sorry about the death in your family.”
“Thank you,” she said, putting the remains of her lunch back in the brown paper bag. Judging by the increased activity of the other teachers, lunchtime was near its end.
“If you want to talk about it, I’d be happy to listen.” He was staring at her with a charming smile, a smile she distrusted.
“I appreciate the offer,” she returned with a polite upturn of her lips. “I’ll keep it in mind.”
She stood and picked up her bag just as the bell rang signaling the end of the break period. Without saying good-bye, she walked towards the entrance of the brick school building with the sun blazing on her back, joining in with the group of students hurrying inside.
Later, after school ended and her last class walked out the door, Alex paused from erasing the whiteboard and turned towards her only remaining student.
“Chou, can you wait a minute?”
She pulled out a Kleenex and wiped her hands before approaching the young boy.
“Yes, Ms. Thompson?”
“Could you give your father a message for me?”
“Sure.”
“Please tell him thank you for the lovely flowers.”
Chou smiled and Alex felt an unexpected answering warmth. Her fondness for him had turned into something that she couldn’t banish.
“You liked them?”
“Yes, I did.”
He paused, glancing back and forth between her and the flowers. “I helped pick them out.”
“Then no wonder I like them so much,” she chuckled. “You have excellent taste in flowers, young man.”
She watched a small blush spread over his face before he looked down. “Now you’d better get a move on. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
* * *
An hour later after a slow drive through rush-hour traffic, Alex pulled off the note tacked to the inner door of the dojo and read Sensei’s elegantly drawn Japanese script. I will return shortly.
She opened the door and stepped into the empty room. She was late arriving. Alex crossed the room, quickly entering into the dressing room to change. Afterwards, dressed in the cottony soft uniform, she stood in the middle of the room and began her stretching exercise and progressed into a series of kicks, punches, and blocks. As she mechanically continued the practiced movements, she closed her eyes. Memories colored sepia with a decade of time moved through her mind like pictures on a reel.
First Alex saw herself as a young girl standing by the sea. Instead of paying attention to another one of her father’s lessons, she stared down at her left hand, fascinated by the red blood that had welled from the cut caused by the seashell. She looked up to see her father’s brown eyes.
“It hurts, Father,” she said.
“Pain is a part of life, Alex,” he answered. “One day you’ll grow numb to it.”
In the next image she moved through a village strewn with dead bodies. The area reeked of death and rot. Alex carried her gun in front of her, as did the others, but those responsible were gone. The villagers had been killed because they had refused to gather the poppies. Her squad couldn’t make war to avenge the dead nor protect the cartel’s next victims.
Finally, she saw the face of the young Columbian gunman, his eyes wide with surprise that his bullet had not struck her down. Alex saw herself pull the trigger and watch him die.
The sound of the gong as it struck the eighth time brought her back to herself. Alex was drenched in sweat and breathing heavily.
She opened her eyes to see Sensei staring at her. She bowed, “Iterashai.” Welcome back.
“I am sorry for your loss.”
His words almost undid her. History was once again repeating itself. This time it was Sensei; last time it had been Khan, her DELTA teammate, who had spoken those exact words. She took a deep breath and pushed the pain aside.
“Arigato.” Thank you.
“I have prepared tea. Would you like to join me?” he asked.
“I would like that very much.” She followed him into the kitchen. The last time Sensai had asked that question, Alex had been in physical pain. This time, however, it was mental. Not all the green tea in the world could erase her memories of death.
* * *
The next night, Alex pulled into the driveway of her home at about 9:00 p.m. Having spent the entire Saturday leading self-defense sessions at the local community college, she was so tired that she parked her car in the garage before she took notice of the dark maroon Mustang parked on the street out front. She unlocked the garage door and entered the kitchen. Hearing masculine laughter and not wanting to interrupt her roommate and her guest, she headed for the back stairs. But as soon as her foot hit the first step, she heard Karen call out.
“Alex, come into the living room, you’ve got company.”
“Damn,” she muttered. Dropping her purse on the side table, she entered the living room to see Karen sitting next to Officer McNeal on the couch. Karen stood up with her coffee mug.
“Welcome home. Matt was just telling me about the beating you gave his squad.”
“I gave her the Cliff Notes version,” he nodded.
Alex smiled. “Don’t believe a word he says.”
Karen stood. “Are you okay?” Her eyes filled with concern.
“I’m fine,” Alex replied.
“I’m going to get finished packing for my trip. Let me know if want to talk,” her roommate instructed softly as she hugged her.
“Thanks, K.”
“Nice to meet you, Matt.”
“You too, Karen. Good night.”
Matt broke the silence. “I got a copy of the file you asked for.”
Relief poured over her. “Thank you.”
“I’ve got to warn you. As soon as I finished the download, the file was blocked.”
“Why?”
“I did some more digging. It looks like the case has been taken over by the Feds.”
Alex was puzzled. “Why would the FBI be getting involved with a local homicide?”
“I don’t know, but whatever the reason, everything about the shooting has been hushed up.”
She rubbed her temples, trying to get rid of her tiredness.
“Can we look at it in the kitchen? I need some coffee.”
“Are you sure you want to look at this tonight? The photos aren’t pretty.”
Part of her wanted to say no. That same part also wanted to run and hide under the covers. But Alex knew that reality and its coldness would never allow her a warm peace. She urged Matt to follow her into the kitchen. Taking out a cup from the cabinet, she poured a cup of coffee and added cream and sugar.
Matt laid the file on the table and Alex moved to open it. She stared down at the pictures. It wasn’t as if the faces of the dead surprised her. She had seen death before. In the military, she’d pulled the trigger, set the explosive, thrown the knife. But this time was different. Seeing Brian’s motionless body with his blood trickling into the street shook her. Alex paged through the color printouts, stopping at the autopsy and ballistics report. Ten minutes later as she finished the file, she looked up at Matt, her expression serious.
“Did you read this?”
He nodded his head.
“Tell me this isn’t true,” she said.
“I’m afraid it is. A stray bullet didn’t kill Brian Scott nor did the officers on duty. The coroner concluded from the size and location of the entry wound that it was precise and deliberate. Alex, the bullet wasn’t police issue, so the conclusion is that someone in the car with your friend pulled the trigger.”
She tapped her finger on the table. “His death wasn’t an accident; it was murder.”
“And there isn’t a damn thing the police can do about it,” he added.
“What?” Alex asked.
“What I said earlier is true. The FBI has taken over the case. They yanked some high official’s chain. My district chief is pissed. One of our own is dead, and he’s been shut out.”
She watched his fingers tighten around the coffee cup.
After a moment of silence, Matt asked, “Was your friend involved with anything illegal?”
She shook her head. “No way.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes,” she answered firmly.
Alex was reaching to close the folder when a sudden high-pitched beep caused her to jump.
“My pager,” Matt explained, then dug down into his pocket. “Can I use your phone?”
“Sure.”
He hung up the phone after five minutes. “I’ve gotta go. This information is confidential. If this gets out I could lose my shield.”
“Don’t worry, Matt. This stays between you and me.”
* * *
Alex woke the next morning to the sound of the phone ringing. As she picked up the receiver, she looked at the LED readout on the alarm clock: 5:15 a.m. She put her ear to the phone and could hear the sound of loud voices in the background.
“Hello?”
“Niña.”
“Rafé?” Alex sat up, pushing her hair out of her eyes. “What’s wrong?” He never called when he was on a mission.
“Nothing. I just called to check on you. Are you well?”
She cradled the phone all the more tightly. “I should be asking you that question but I’m fine.”
“Good. I know about your Brian’s death. Stay out of it. Do you hear me? Do not get involved.”
“Yes, sir,” she agreed automatically. The lie slid smoothly from her lips. She did not need Rafé to worry about her while on a mission.
“I will be back soon. We must talk.” Alex heard a click and then there was silence.
She hung up the phone and got out of bed to start her morning stretches. Sitting on the carpeted floor, she closed her eyes and tried to find her center. It should have been quiet blankness. Instead, Alex found her mind filled with images of Brian laughing, then his body pooled in blood.
Marry me, Lee. She saw his light brown eyes as he knelt in the warm sand.
Toss the ball, Lee. Alex saw Brian wide open, positioned to take a three-point shot. Tears formed in the back of her throat and she pushed them back. Brian still existed like a ghost in the back of her mind. When order returned to her thoughts and breathing became easier, Alex opened her eyes, looking upon daybreak with a renewed resolve. The time had come for her to exorcise his ghost, find his killer.