The bra strap bit down painfully into her shoulder, but she decided to let it go rather than deal with having a looser one sliding down her arm all day. As she slipped into the light green sleeveless summer dress, and wiggled her feet into a pair of black denim wedges Carmen thought the outfit was what her friend Elise always referred to as 'trailer chic'. Checking the mirror she only applied a little lipstick and made sure there were no obvious lumps or bulges to make her shoulders look like over-stuffed croissants. Otherwise, Carmen didn't really care what she looked like right at this moment. She didn't want to go.
She couldn't resuscitate her high school charm out of her tired thirty year old body. Her hair was still honey blond, and the brown eyes still appeared huge and well spaced in her narrow face, but there were skin rolls and sags here and there around her figure the result of motherhood three times over. Faint lines around her eyes marred even their beauty just a bit. These imperfections wouldn't be willed away by any amount of determination, but she knew that wasn't why he showed up anyway. His attraction to her wasn't based on any of those things.
The day would be a fit of humidity she could tell. Her shoes were already sticking uncomfortably to the bottoms of her heels by the time she reluctantly opened the patio doors to step outside. Walking along the gravel pathway to the pool she was steeled for a day she'd rather hadn't come.
She insisted the kids got some pre-breakfast exercise every morning before going to school. Her own mother always assigned routine chores, but Carmen was keener on her children being able to concentrate on schoolwork rather than being able to keep a tidy house. Not so surprisingly the two oldest usually chose a morning swim until so late in the year their teeth chattered through blue lips before trying some other form of activity in the early autumn mornings.
Out on the patio the atmosphere was even more oppressive. Jackson, her husband mentioned last night, he was hoping for an early winter, but she reminded him this part of Texas habitually hung on to summer as long as it could. Sometimes his vague optimism was the biggest source of discord between them. The other cause of friction was watching her children swim. Carmen's father Aksel was sitting in one of the larger white plastic chairs near the pool. Indifferent to heat, he was wearing his usual wardrobe which included a long sleeve white shirt and pressed slacks. His wavy white hair parted neatly and well combed almost perfectly matched in length the salt and pepper beard dangling from his chin. Only the missing tie and coat jacket indicated he wouldn't be going into the office. He took his attention away from his grandchildren long enough to give Carmen a long appraisal as she walked toward him.
"That's what you're wearing?" He asked. The tone was critical.
As a child Carmen always day dreamed of a courageous moment when a flippant remark at his critically frustrating questions flew out of her mouth, but her nerve always failed her. Instead, she merely gave him a conspiratorial grin. Her father took the expression as an acceptance of his critique. He always did.
"It'll have to do," the old man sighed.
A few fine white hairs of his beard wiggled madly disturbed by his out take of breath and something about this sight sent a wave of repulsion through Carmen as if a raw nerve was exposed and plucked at, but years of experience told her to keep her smile in place. As they drew closer she gave his shoulder a quick squeeze with her hand. This was what passed for a hug between them, since she was a teenager. She knew he'd smelt of sour stale sweat inefficiently covered over with some overly sweet brand of men's cologne spray. Even her mother who always remained closed mouthed about her troubles complained about his dislike for bathing. He nodded briefly in return and gestured toward the children.
"Gwen's the champ so far," he said indicating her daughter the oldest by a year and the fastest swimmer in the family.
"She's done almost twenty laps to Marty's twelve."
"Hate to tell you", her father went on his voice becoming cooler, "but your son Cam thinks he's a turtle."
Cameron her youngest looked up on hearing his name. The boy was huddled at the edge of the pool cowering beneath a large bright orange beach towel twice his size. While he gave a tentative smile showing his small white teeth and pink gums, Carmen could see the criticism cut him to the bone. This type of self betrayal was part of his problem. His grandfather and anyone with the old man's tendency to needle and probe would see those as targets to aim further barbs.
Her older two kids were as stocky as their father, but fell short of his blond good looks and air of compliancy. They all had the Smith family deep brown eyes, but the older children' were set close together with a slanted almond shape like their grandfather's while Cameron's were wide spaced and rounder. Carmen sort of hoped her daughter would develop some curves soon to offset her heavy jaw and prominent forehead. Fortunately Gwen didn't seem to notice or care about her looks. Bossy her teachers called the preteen, but Carmen was told she should hear this to mean natural leader. Likewise Marty who used his bulk and brawn to make his point on the playground was simply self reliant. She fervently wished the bony awkward, Cameron would just toughen up.
She knew he was sitting on the sidelines not because he was tired or couldn't swim as well as his siblings, but because the dark shading of the pool tiles unnerved him. Her father built the deck and pool as a wedding present and the design on its floor was a brooding scene from a Wagner opera the name of which Carmen always managed to forget. The younger boy was frightened by the way the grim images caused strange shadows to play in the water. He'd told her this once when she'd taken him swimming without the other children. He'd have to get over it, she'd told him.
"Winners get breakfast," her father was saying. "Losers couldn't have worked up an appetite."
Gwen and Marty exchanged identical gloating expressions each taking one of their Grandfather's hands. Camie, as his mother thought of him was trailing behind the brightly colored towel dragging in the dirt He cast hopeful eyes in her direction, but Carmen kept her graze focused on the ground. She couldn't encourage his behavior, especially in front of her father. She'd drop some hints on how to handle himself better as soon as she got the chance.
Aksel, caught up with her as she reached her car. He surprised her, since he seldom exerted himself these days. The old man must have practically jogged to meet her before she left and he was breathing a little heavily she noted with some satisfaction.
"Be careful," he warned her as she slid behind the wheel, "You know how I feel about you having to do this, but we need to know what your Michel is up to."
He was hardly her Michel since their friendship would no doubt have come to a natural conclusion shortly after high school without her father's influence, but again Carmen maintained her silence. There was no use reminding Aksel Smith of facts he didn't feel worth remembering.
"I'm sorry again about your friend Elise."
Startled Carmen fiddled with the keys and tried to appear casual. The ancient engine of the late model Mustang roared to life. Jackson called the battered red vehicle her 'Go Cat' because the slated domed lights and chrome grill resembled a feline face. Of course, if so much as a shopping basket caressed the door an insurance agent would total it. Perhaps that was the reason she loved this car. There would be no fuss if something happened to it.
His breathing still labored and sweat stains under the arm pits of his shirt her father leaned over her, and she fought to keep from wrinkling her nose. Carmen wanted desperately for him to just let her leave. Hating to drive fast she always gave herself plenty of time when she could. The morning rush hour traffic would start any minute, and she needed to make her way through several towns before noon.
"No matter how you look at it," her father said his voice a wheezy gasp, "people like Michel are the one's ultimately responsible."
"Whatever", she thought.
It was what Elsie would have said. She tried giving him her smile again. What her late friend called the patented Carmen Smith "I'm-always-cool" grin. The smile Aksel Smith always believed in, and her father stepped back from the car. Turning in the driveway she could see he still stood there watching as she drove away.
This was the part of taking a trip Carmen truly loved. A few miles from home she pulled over and pushing the seat closer to the wheel found the spot comfortable for her lower back. Playing with the car stereo she found a channel playing soft jazz. Then with the air conditioner blasting a wasteful almost polar wind she backed on to the road. She must remember before she got home to put everything back the way it had been before Jackson came home and the nagging began on the misuse of the A.C.., the danger of driving too close to the wheel, and of course the evil influence of anything but his favorite talk radio station.
"Whatever," she mentally heard her Elise's voice say and the smile turned genuine.
She didn't want to go. She didn't want to see Michael again and hear his new hard luck stories and tales of honorable poverty. There was no pay-off in seeing his frayed cuffs, faded blue jeans and scuffed two-year-old work shoes. All these things she'd come to expect as the Michael Philips package made Carmen slightly sick to her stomach.
At least there was the joy of driving. Relishing these moments alone she turned the radio up just a bit more. Once she got there she'd find a coffee shop and order the most decadently caffeinated cup of self-indulgence she could find. Then she'd sip her drink slowly at first savoring the rich flavor of coffee. Then when Michael showed up she'd drink deeper and lick her lips. Carmen could see them in her mind's eye walking through the Shepland shopping centre. She'd lured him into the idea she'd buy him one or offer a taste.
She'd do neither of course. She knew he'd sweat paying his share of lunch, and she took malicious pleasure in loudly making a big deal about splitting the bill managing each time to heap a bit humiliation on her former classmate. He deserved it. If not for him she wouldn't have to be doing this at all. Why didn't he ever take a hint? Why did he always agree to meet? Her mouth thinned into a sinister colorless line as she imagined torturing him.
A huge Mach truck hauling logs so large they dwarfed her car flew by her door its horn an angry scream. She must have drifted for a second. Clucking her tongue at herself Carmen sat up straighter. An hour's worth of empty road and farmland meandered in front of her.
But as she passed the railroad tracks marking entry into the next town Carmen couldn't block the images she now associated with the place. They'd found the body partially disrobed and three days dead just a mile away in the grassy fields that stretched for miles broken only by snaky patterns of dirt roads.
Carmen briefly considered stopping the car and going to look. She hadn't been able to gleam many details of the murder other than what the papers and Elise's mother said. When she'd spoken to the police they'd asked such cruel questions she couldn't answer honestly leaving Carmen to swallow hard on her own bitter curiosity. Elise's mother only wanted to talk about was how peaceful her daughter looked when she'd identified her. The older woman was only in her fifties, but appeared so frail Carmen had walked her through the funeral home supporting her on her arm. Elise mother had reached down into the coffin and patted her daughter's blond hair calling her at peace.
"They found her like that," she'd told Carmen sounding proud despite the tears in her voice. "She looks like she's almost smiling. Serene, so peaceful you could almost believe she might wake up."
Aware of the long jagged wound hidden by a grey turtleneck Elise never would have worn while alive the idea of her friend suddenly waking up made Carmen's gut convulse with revulsion. For much of the mourner's gathering she hid in the toilet hoping her absence wouldn't be too noticeable in the press of family and friends nibbling on dry tasteless sandwiches. They talked on and on about what a scandalous mystery the murder was. Everyone in their tiny town wanted to talk about Elise's murder for days on end, but no one could tell Carmen what she wanted to know.
Her drive took her through three smallish towns separated by miles of empty scorched farmland. The distance was twice for Carmen what it was for Michael to drive nevertheless a mall in the south part of the nearest rambling, bustling little metropolis was almost always their meeting point. While the restaurants in the surrounding area changed constantly the shopping centre itself remained popular and as usual Carman found herself battling for a parking space.
Reluctantly turning off the radio on a bouncy spicy note she rested her head against the steering wheel. At least she could be relieved, she'd made it with time to spare and no incidents on the road, but not even the thought of a large icy mocha offset her mood. She didn't want to think how she'd gotten into this, but her brain no longer pacified by music or the drone of the road wouldn't be denied. The memories swarmed up without her consent.
When Michael's family moved into town, and he'd started attending the high school in his freshman year Carmen was looking for someone or something new. Most of the kids had known each other all their lives and ignored the newcomer except for Carmen. Michael was full of fresh stories and ideas she'd never heard or considered. He'd been new and interesting even dressing a tad different from everyone else. They'd been friends and nothing more as she repeatedly told her father. Michael for his part loved having his non-status in town off-set by hanging out with Aksel Smith's daughter who could do no wrong even when she did. The worst that could happen to them was riding home with a deputy. Michael was the free spirit, but Carmen was known to have her moments, too.
Askel of course didn't see things that way. After a few months he'd wanted Michael invited over for dinner and the sparks had flown. Mike's own father was a civil attorney who'd taught him to stand up for his beliefs, while naturally Askel wanted no usurpers to his authority. Carmen had quietly loved the whole show.
Michael had wondered about her father. He'd laughed when she told him about their money. Her family didn't live a luxurious life, Aksel made sure of it. Theirs was not an ostentatious existence to be certain, but in truth while many of her friends often discussed adult realities like mortgages or the price of groceries Carmen never truly wanted for anything. She told Michael the key to her father's social standing were his contacts. Neither of them had really understood what that meant.
She could see him now. Young determined Mike had been the pure soul of optimism. Her father told her all that would fade away when he faced real life. When he was challenged his ideals would prove a false ground to stand on. And Mike did change. The promise of what he could be never materializing. All he'd been fading after his own father passed away and his life began to run a different course.
The interior of the coffee shop was cool with dim lighting. The scent of coffee and chocolate decorated the air. At this hour right before lunch and so long after breakfast, there were few customers so Carmen could take her time ordering.
"Whipped cream?"
The counter girl was smiling slyly while asking the question and Carmen nodded with enthusiasm. This was a calorie binge no sparing the thrills. She didn't want to be here.
A hand lightly touched her back, and before she could turn, he was standing beside her. He'd caught up to her just as he always did.
"Smells good," he told her nodding at her drink.
"It is," she began smugly, but he shook his head.
"Not good for you through. I'll have a tea with soy, please."
He ordered and flashing a grin at the counter girl paid in cash before Carmen could mention she wasn't picking up the tab.
Young with light eyes, short spiky blond hair, a figure not even ruined by her oversized waitress apron the girl behind the counter courted Michael with information about hibiscus and different brands of soy enriched milk.
Carmen meandered to a stool nearby. She perched and while feigning interest in a variety of hot cocoa mixes studied Michael out of the corner of her eye. His nose was still too long for his otherwise elfish face. A good hair cut hid his triangular shaped ears well softening his appearance. A thin black cotton long sleeve shirt and jeans didn't hide much, and she could see he'd lost the pounds collecting around his middle for the last few years. The clothes themselves looked fairly new down to the sporty shoes which looked casual, but were a brand Carmen knew to be expensive. Reluctantly she admitted to herself, he looked darn good. She wondered miserably how this came to be.
"See this is what you really need," he said finally directing a comment toward Carmen, "high energy, nothing to clog your heart."
He smiled as he sunk into the deep cushion of a nearby booth. Nodding up at her he winked and took a swig from his drink. She expected him to show her to a place across from him, but he merely sat drinking so she eventually moved on her own.
Her father had called her up to the office he kept at home just after her seventeenth birthday party. Askel had converted two rooms on the second floor of the family's home into an office complete with computer and a fax machine before either Carmen or her brother were even born.
The entire space was a forbidden area for the younger Smiths, and as she'd climbed the stairs that day and entered the unknown territory of her father's domain, she'd half-hoped for something special. Other students far less well off than her family were getting new cars or some college nest egg and a part of her mind, a part she could usually manage to contain ran wild with repressed expectations. Her younger brother was already on a college track while she'd stuck with the 'professional trade' the school's euphemism for secretarial courses. Perhaps she couldn't help but hope her father might have seen some potential in her after all, or maybe she was due for some reward. Instead, as she shut the door behind her and saw one of father's associates sitting beside him, she realized this would be a different sort of conversation. Truthfully it had been far stranger than anything she'd imagined.
Michael watched her slide in across from him, but said nothing. Usually bubbly with false bravado at first she'd prod and poke until finding the problems beyond his buoyant attitude. This time he gave no hints. In the long run her own time constraints were against her. She needed to get this over before the kids got home from school.
"You look good," she ventured at last.
It wasn't the impression she wanted to get across to him, but those words were the only thought running through her head which made any sense.
"And you're disappointed?"
She waited for him to show he was joking, but he spoke so coolly she couldn't accuse him of whining. His unwavering gaze remained fixed on her.
"Of course not, I'm glad for you."
He didn't drop his eyes as he asked: "Why did you call?"
Carmen caught her reflection in the polished faux granite table top. The mouth turned down like a surprised, unhappy toddler, and creases wrinkled the skin between the likeness's eyes. She carefully marshaled her expression before looking up.
"I'm always the one who calls," she said in a tone weakly teasing at reproach.
The old Michael would have backpedaled desperately looking for a way back into good graces, but clearly the dynamic was changing because his close examination now made her feel like a bug under a microscope. Something was seriously wrong.
"So, what are you doing these days?" She blurted out the all important question almost helplessly.
He smiled sadly. "I'm on the same job as the last time we spoke Carmen."
She just managed to keep her head from twisting to one side like a confused chastised puppy. The worst part was wondering what he suspected.
"It's funny isn't it?" he stopped almost encouraging her to interrupt, but when she didn't he continued, "This is the first time I've been employed at the same place as the last time we met."
Her heart was beating far too fast as dozens of questions buzzed through her head. She dismissed them all because they'd only serve to make her look or feel guiltier. Michael was waiting. Waiting for her say something and she finally pulled herself back into the routine. Rolling her eyes she gave him the most condescending smile she could muster.
"Sounds like you've got a lame little conspiracy theory starring you're very own downtrodden self. Poor you nothing is your fault"
She was on a roll, but he interrupted with the last thing she wanted to hear or know.
"This boss told me about the phone calls Carmen," he told her gently.
She shrugged. "What calls?"
"You might not know, but the people I work for now are computer security specialists whom I know you don't know anything about," he offered quickly apparently noting her frustration.
"They keep computers from being hacked or broken into, and my supervisor actually worked as cop before he went into the cyber end of stopping the bad guys. When he got the call about me, he was suspicious and did a little digging. Turns out every place I've ever worked for has gotten one of those little phone calls. In some cases I'm a thief, or I'm on drugs. Some of them heard I was a lot worse."
He stopped waiting, but she could only stare back mesmerized.
"They got those calls within the first year of my employment from people claiming I'd worked for them or knew them in the past. All these years I never knew why I couldn't put down roots. You know? I could never figure out why I couldn't hold a job. Now, I know. I had a lot of help."
He voice was dry, but she knew what quality he'd gained. Knowing nothing was wrong with him gave him back more than merely his confidence.
"Sounds like someone doesn't like you very much," she said.
Somehow she needed to take the conversation back, but a part of her wanted to hear what Michael was telling her. At long last the maddening doubt was being satisfied.
"Oh, yeah definitely, someone had it out for me. Carmen, you need to know about all those calls. They trace back to companies your father owns or has a share in. He's made it some kind of mission to sink me. Do you know why? Do you have any clue why he'd do this to me?"
She found herself looking into his eyes almost involuntarily. Slate grey with tiny flecks of gold just as they looked almost fifteen years ago when they'd met as kids.
"They thought you were too," Carmen stopped herself getting to her feet, but Michael grabbed for her hand.
"I don't have to talk to you," she spat the words at him.
"Yes, you do. This is just nuts Carmen," he shook his head clearly mystified, "What you really need to know is the last person we talked to was your friend Elise. She made a few of those calls from her own home. My boss told me she was terrified when he found her and wouldn't talk. She was dead less than a week later. I don't know about you but this is out of my depth. If you really, honestly don't know what's going on with your crazy Dad you should stay here while we figure things out. Home might not be safe for you."
She pulled her hand free and tottered, a few steps before recovering her balance. Almost running for the door she nearly collided with a customer entering the shop. She was certain Michael would try to stop her but when she looked back she saw he was still sitting at the table. He'd pulled a cell phone from his pocket and looked to be making a call. He wasn't even watching her go.
By the time she located the car in the parking lot her gut was in knots and the coffee felt like acid eating away at the pit of her stomach. Fumbling desperately with the keys this time for real it took her several tries to turn the engine.
Once out of city traffic she turned the radio back on. Elise and Carmen went back as far as their Sunday school toddler class. Aksel was astute enough to either offer money or the opportunity to get even with Michael the newcomer who'd so easily stolen Carmen's attention back in school. Carmen's family was rich in the materialistic mind of middle class Elise. Her friend wouldn't have asked too many questions. Even if she'd suspected she was being directed to do something wrong she'd do it for Aksel Smith. Afterwards she certainly wouldn't let even her best friend or mother in on this one little secret.
But then, Carmen realized she was no better. She could see the shadow of her bouncy, slender seventeen year old self play on the wall as she'd climbed the stairs to her father's study.
"We need you to do a favor for us," He father had said giving her a rare look of approval.
"There are many others who think as we do," he'd informed her. "My friends and I believe young men such as your Michael must be watched closely. He doesn't share our values. He's a charmer. A few people can change the minds of many. Young men like Michael often find themselves in a position to do just that. He's not the only person of interest for us, but he's the only one you have to worry about. "
And Carmen smiled blandly during this appointment with her father despite her disappointment. This was the trick she'd wanted to pass on to her son Camie. Never show pain. Never let anyone know how they can hurt you. She'd felt very grown up sitting with her father and the other man. This was Jackson's father, and he'd arranged for her to meet his son recently a college graduate. In some weird way almost to spite their parents she and Jackson truly fell in love. At least Carmen thought they were in love. While never the over-sexed drama trash novel Elise used to devour type of love, it was the sort of relationship Carmen thought of as real.
It was so ridiculous. The beginning started before terrorist became a common term, but she knew then that while he had strange ideas and lacked the natural respect for authority most of her friends had, he wasn't violent. He didn't even care about politics. He was the last person to try to overthrow a government. She wondered how many other lives her father's tiny group had disrupted for so little reason.
"Whatever," Elise would have said.
She'd gone along because a part of her felt Michael wasn't as vulnerable as they thought. He wouldn't care if they gossiped behind his back. Then as she watched him prove her wrong by doubting himself and falling apart she'd lost respect for him anyway.
Just as she reached the tracks again a car pulled out from a dirt road and drifted into her lane. Distracted she slowed and hit the horn, but of course all she could do was stay back and wait for a chance to go around. Back in her own thoughts she wondered how she'd ever be able to tell her father his actions might have caused her friend's death. Convincing Aksel Smith of anything he didn't want to know was impossible. She remembered him as he'd been this morning standing in the yard forlornly watching her leave and the truth hit her so swiftly it felt like a physical blow. Like a blindfold being ripped off she could see her own father in a glare of harsh light.
He did know.
She was sure of it. He knew, and when she let this one painful realization advance to her consciousness the rest of the theory presented itself whole and completely constructed in her mind as if a part of her had worked it out long ago. He knew the risk and he'd sent her anyway. He was a foolish old man involved with some crazy plot. Had Mike said something that triggered his being targeted or was he undone just for the old man's phobia of being caught?
"Oh, God I'm idiot," she whispered aloud, "it was us the whole time."
The car in front of her a dark sedan was driving even slower than before. It came to a sudden stop creating a small cloud of dust. Cursing softly under her breath Carmen shifted into reverse. Another vehicle she'd not noticed before was pulling up behind her. This was a pickup with an extended cab so large she couldn't see around it. Her hand on the door she almost let herself out when the sedan's driver stepped out.
He was tall with thinning blond hair. Carmen recognized him faintly, but she couldn't fathom where she'd seen him. Perhaps he father's office during a visit? Maybe sulking in a corner looking out of place while her eyes had skimmed over him briefly like so many other clues she should have noticed. Smirking, the young man was looking around her and in the rear view mirror Carmen saw the other driver a shorter man she didn't know jump down from the pickup's cab. Now she could place the first guy. He worked with her husband.
A new reality was overlaying memories of the past. Her father's friends, her mother's lack of interest in everything he did, her courtship with Jackson, all of it became twisted a turned in a new direction. Askel was a part of some cabal whose darkness had seeped and spread through her own life. She'd known hadn't she? Really, deep down Carmen had known.
The first man was almost to her door a mean spirited smirk still twisting his lips and distorting his features. Carmen could almost make out his eyes. She slipped off her shoes carefully using one foot to release the other. Her whole body seemed to be freezing despite the heat and cold sweat trickled down her neck, but her steady gaze remained fixed on the man walking toward her car. Images flashed through her mind as if all the adrenaline flowing through her system trigged a mental slide show. The shadow of her younger self walking up the stairs to her father's office, Cameron's hopeful face peering up into her own, Michael sitting across from her like pictures flowed from one to the next.
The memory of Michael with his phone gave her a pitiful hope. Had he called someone who'd help? Or had Michael given up on her as she'd once given up on him? At least, she considered frantically this way Michael would know she really hadn't known exactly what was going on. Aksel would no doubt blame Michael, or he might fault his daughter. Losers don't get breakfast or second chances. The thought almost made her laugh in her hysteria, but another part of her mind was already on a different track altogether. She looked at the man nearing the driver side door and gave him a cool smile. Her smile, the one her good friend Elise always envied.
A quick slide over to the other door and she could take off barefoot through those fields hopefully finding cover in the dense high grass and trees on the other side. She couldn't easily fend off the men advancing on her, but they might not be expecting a fight, at least not from her. The smile floated effortlessly on her lips. She wouldn't let them see what she was thinking. This wouldn't be what they planned. Carmen wasn't Elise nor was she really the daughter Aksel believed her to be. No one was going to make her look at all peaceful.