Ghost From the Past -
Sorcha MacMurrough 1-58345-029-7 180 pp. $12.95
Biochemist Clarissa
Vincent’s fiancé Julian Simmons was killed in a
terrible explosion five years ago. Or was he? Taking a new
job in Portland, Oregon, Clarissa sees a man at the airport
who could be Julian’s double, and is suddenly propelled
into a nightmarish world of espionage and intrigue. She must
struggle to save her family and the man she has always loved
from the ruthless people who will stop at nothing to achieve
world domination.
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CHAPTER
ONE
Dr. Clarissa Vincent, waiting quietly for her luggage to come
off the airport carousel in Portland, Oregon, suddenly saw a
ghost.
Clarissa attempted to subdue her thumping heart as she gazed
over at the man talking on his cellular phone, but her knees
began to tremble, and it took all her strength to prevent
herself from fainting.
It can’t be! He’s dead! came the
excruciatingly painful voice of reason. Yet again she
lifted her eyes, shocked and ever-hopeful, to the magnificent
man next to a pillar standing across from her.
Clarissa rebuked herself sternly, trying to restrain her
emotions before they rocketed out of control. After
all, this wasn’t the first time her desperate longing
had convinced her that Julian was still alive. Ever since the
death of her fiance five years before, Clarissa had often
seen men who had made her long for Julian Simmons with an
acuteness bordering on agony.
She pressed her sweating palms together, and tried to look
away. But the more she tried to ignore him, the more she
seemed compelled towards this mysterious man. He was
just as tall as Julian had been, nearly six foot five, and
the hand holding the phone she could see had the same long,
tapering fingers.
“This is ridiculous,” Clarissa muttered to herself
aloud. “He doesn’t even have the same
hair colour, or eyes,” she guessed, after a few more
seconds’ scrutiny as she took several steps closer.
But it was easy enough to dye one’s
hair, she admitted, and the unnatural glint in the dark brown
eyes suggested the man was wearing contact lenses. Coloured
ones? Clarissa speculated, as she moved closer to left
hand side of him, concealing herself on the other side of the
pillar, and heard the man’s deep thrilling tones.
Her mouth went dry. She could feel the perspiration
running down her back. Resisting the impulse to
throw herself into his arms, she sat down on a bench,
deciding she had to be absolutely sure it was Julian before
making a complete fool of herself.
Clarissa overheard her ghostly man say,
“The Baltimore flight won’t be in for another
twenty minutes. I’ll get a cup of coffee, and wait
it out. I’ll report back as soon as I get the
information. Make sure you have back up standing
by.”
Clarissa was positive it was Julian’s voice. She
tried to make sense of the words. She now knew with
absolute certainty that this was no ghost, nor was it her
fanciful imagination. He had also mentioned Baltimore, the
site of his supposedly fatal accident. But why
did he sound so official, almost as though he were working
for the police? He had been a biochemist, like herself, and
in charge of one of the most prestigious and successful
corporations in the United States, Simmons Petrochemicals.
What was he doing here? And how could he possibly be
alive?
Clarissa studied Julian as he walked over to the coffee
stand, and noticed he now walked with a slight limp. No
doubt from the explosion, she reasoned.
Next she examined his clothes. Not the three piece
suits he had always worn in the office, but nearly identical
to his usual casual wear. The black trousers were
crisply pressed, with razor sharp creases, and he wore a
black polo neck cashmere jumper. Both items of clothing
moulded to his perfectly formed body so closely that he might
as well have been naked, Clarissa thought with a resentment
not unmixed with admiration.
His physique was the envy of every man, from the
well-developed shoulders, evidence of the many years he had
rowed at university, down to his broad muscular chest, his
slender hips, and long graceful legs. Clarissa
remembered how every eye had focused on them whenever they
had entered a room together, both of them tall, dark,
stately, and very much in love.
I mustn’t do this to myself, Clarissa thought with a
pang. What is the point of raking up all those old
memories? He may be alive, but what now? We
can’t just turn back the clock. Too much has
happened, she recalled with dread.
As Julian returned with his coffee to take up his
surveillance position near the pillar again , Clarissa dared
to peep at his face . True, he looked slightly older,
and certainly more careworn than she remembered, but there
was the same deep cleft in the chin, the slightly bushy brows
which could frown so threateningly down over his spectacular
eyes, or raise in surprise and laughter. She knew the
eyes ought to be steel grey, and as for the hair, it had been
an incredible shade of brown, with reddish and blond tinges
when the light caught it.
Clarissa thought with relief that at least the accident
hadn’t scarred him for life. Not that it would
have mattered to her if it had. She had loved Julian
passionately, still did. Nothing could have come
between their love except death, or so she had thought.
Seeing him alive again forced her to question that, and her
entire perception of their past together.
Clarissa looked for other telltale signs of his identity, and
she could also see the mark where he had once worn an
earring, his one act of youthful rebellion which had oddly
suited him. She detected glints of gold and white as he
held up a newspaper in front of his face. Elated, she
knew she could prove his identity beyond a doubt, but she had
to be careful. People didn’t pretend to be dead
for no reason. If he passed this test, then what?
Clarissa had no idea, but she had to be certain. She
circled around behind the pillar and approached him on his
left hand side.
“Excuse me, could you tell me the time please?” she
heard herself ask in a quavery voice.
The impatience of the gesture was unmistakable as he jerked
his arm up to glance at his watch, not even troubling to turn
around to face her, but Clarissa received her confirmation.
There on his left hand was the signet ring he had always worn
on his middle finger, and the ivory one she had given him on
his fourth finger.
“Twelve o’ clock,” Julian grunted, and she
also noted that the battered Rolex watch was the same as he
had always worn.
She managed to gasp a thank you, and scurried away. Clarissa’s
mind was in turmoil. What should she do?
Forcing herself to be practical, she realised that the crowd
coming off the flight from New York was thinning out, and she
needed to get her luggage. So she went to the carousel,
and her bags came around together, almost as if by magic.
Then Clarissa searched for her car rental company, and was
told that her vehicle would be delivered in about twenty
minutes.
Clarissa was terrified. What if Julian went away?
But no, he had said that the Baltimore flight was late, so
she had time to organise herself. She decided that
putting her suitcases in the left luggage area would give her
a bit more freedom. She had a few basics in her black
holdall, so she could afford to leave her things until she
got herself settled. A seasoned traveller, she had been
caught one or two times with missing, lost or shredded
suitcases, and so she had packed her holdall for just such a
contingency.
Clarissa checked through her American dollars, passport, and
credit cards hastily, and saw that she had enough money to
last several days until she could arrange a transfer of funds
from Ireland.
Clarissa decided to just sit and wait. She had to be
sure this was really Julian. And more importantly, if
it were, then why had he remained dead for five years, when
he was very much alive?
Clarissa was so exhausted from her long flight and the surge
of emotions that she felt upon seeing Julian again, that she
nearly fell asleep. But suddenly a rush of passengers
came into the luggage area. Clarissa sat upright,
alert, sensing danger.
She could see Julian tense, and hide behind his pillar.
She followed his line of vision over to the two men in
raincoats who were coming down the escalator, and she too
tensed. She recognised them vaguely, from many years
ago, two biochemists like herself, whom she had met at a
number of academic conferences.
It seemed an odd coincidence that they should all be at the
airport together, and even more odd, that they all seemed to
be acting so furtively. Clarissa was fairly certain
Julian had met the two men as well, yet he was peering at
them from behind the screen of his newspaper. She was
hiding from them and Julian, slumping down in her seat again,
and pretending to be asleep.
The two men looked extremely suspicious, both putting
on dark glasses as they emerged into the main body of the
terminal. One of the men, portly and balding compared to his
distinguished-looking companion, went over to the car rental
desk, and she could see from his agitation that the girl had
told him he had to wait as well.
After a brief exchange, the girl blushed, and indicated the
car just driving up outside the terminal.
Oh no, not my car! Clarissa groaned, but it was too late.
The girl had already switched the licence plate numbers on
the reservation forms, and handed the man the keys.
She looked over at Julian, and knew he was going to follow
the men. Instinctively she went out into the pouring
rain, and stood in the taxi rank. There was a big line
ahead of her, and she prayed it would disperse before the men
got their luggage.
Clarissa didn’t know what Julian and she would say to
each other, but she was certain that she had to speak to him.
A million questions floated through her mind, and her whole
life, all of her happiness was at stake.
As she stood waiting, the taxis pulled away one by one, but
not quickly enough. She saw Julian come out of the
terminal, and her heart leapt into her mouth. Clarissa
saw him run over to a black BMW, and start the engine. Her
own rental car, a blue Lincoln, was parked just outside the
terminal door. The two men burst through the automatic
doors, and practically flung the car rental attendant out of
the way. They hurled their suitcases into the back, and
Clarissa nearly panicked.
She looked at the first person in the line, and pleaded
desperately, “I’m so sorry, but I’m late for a
wedding at two. Could you possibly let me go ahead of
you?”
The elderly woman was fairly rickety, and Clarissa felt a
twinge of guilt as well as despair.
But the woman chuckled, and said, “Of course, my dear.
When you get to be my age, you give up rushing around
everywhere. Have a lovely time.”
Clarissa hastily shouted her thanks, and then said
breathlessly as she flung open the door and bounded in,
“That black BMW! Follow it.”
The taxi driver chortled, “I always wanted someone to
say that to me!” as he sped off down the highway in hot
pursuit.
The rain came down in a torrent, fogging the windows, and
making driving conditions fairly treacherous. Clarissa
forced herself to lean back in her seat, and remain calm.
The taxi driver wove in and out of the speeding cars
expertly, but even so Clarissa realised with a sinking
feeling in the pit of her stomach that they were getting
further and further behind Julian’s car. He always
was an excellent driver, she thought resentfully.
Clarissa tried to console herself with the knowledge that if
she found those two scientists, she could possibly find
Julian again. She wracked her brain, trying to remember
where she had last seen them. This effort helped her
pass the time, and soothed her frazzled nerves. Somehow,
she would have to track them down. She just wasn’t
thinking rationally at the moment. But how could she,
when her entire world had just been turned upside down?
The shock of seeing Julian again had put her into a spin, but
it was more than that. The sheer joy of discovering
that he was still alive, and anger that he had never
contacted her, coursed through her veins like adrenaline.
What had happened? Why was he here in Portland? Why
was he following those men? And why did she get the
terrible feeling he was in some sort of trouble?
Once they got into the centre of the city, the going became
even more tricky. The taxi had to dodge cars,
buses, and also the Metros that glided along on their tracks,
sometimes causing her to lose sight of the BMW.
Worse still was the knowledge that the Lincoln, a blue dot in
the mist, was following an erratic pattern. It would
slow down and stop, then start up again, sometimes when it
came to a hotel, or sometimes for no visible reason at all.
Then it began to double back, heading out towards the airport
again. Clarissa sighed. They were trying to lose
Julian, and she was in danger of losing him as well, if he
made any sudden move, or decided to break off his search.
“Can you go any faster?” she pleaded with the taxi
driver. “I’ll make it worth your while.”
“Sure thing, I will try, but this weather is making it
pretty tough,” he said cheerfully, pointing at the
deluge which rendered the windshield wipers ineffectual.
The taxi driver ran through several yellows as they were
turning to red, and soon they were only two cars behind the
BMW. The blue Lincoln, however, was another problem,
for it was nowhere to be seen.
Clarissa’s heart sank. She had no way of tracing Julian
if she couldn’t find the two scientists. If only
she could remember their names!!
Worse still, Julian suddenly pulled the BMW over, parking it
carelessly. He didn’t even stop to lock it as he
began charging down a small side street through the pouring
rain. Within seconds he was soaked, and his clothes
became plastered to his glorious body. Clarissa gasped.
He was magnificent, like a panther stalking its prey. Hastily
she pointed and shouted to the driver, “Is there
any way to follow him?”
“I’ll turn down the next one I can,” he
promised, but Clarissa noticed with frustration that the next
two streets were all one way. As the driver
finally turned down, Clarissa chewed her bottom lip, and
prayed silently that she would find him.
As the taxi whipped back, she could see the black figure
running as though his life depended on it.
Clarissa’s taxi, cruising slowly behind him, drove on
passed the hotel to the corner, and she turned to look back.
Sure enough, the valet was parking the blue Lincoln, but the
men had already gone inside.
“I’ll get out here,” Clarissa told the taxi
driver, and handed him a wad of notes.
“Thank you, lady,” he grinned brightly, as he sped
way.
Julian remained outside the hotel, but he soon realised he
was not only soaked through, he was also calling attention to
his presence because of his dishevelled appearance. He seemed
reluctant to leave, however. Clarissa wondered if he
had ditched the car because the two men had suspected they
were being followed, and so had trailed them on foot.
Clarissa herself knew she was standing out on the street just
as exposed as Julian was, with her black holdall, and no
umbrella. There was a pleasant-looking coffee shop on
the corner, so Clarissa decided to go in.
She took a table by the window, and smiled weakly at the
waitress. Though she certainly wasn’t hungry after all
the shock and excitement she had been through, the shop had
a huge rush on for lunch, and she couldn’t just take up
a table without having something.
So she ordered a bacon, lettuce and tomato sandwich, with
extra mayonnaise, and a large cup of extra strong black
coffee.
Clarissa gazed out of the window, filled with indescribable
longing and dread. Was Julian coming back? What
would she do then?
CHAPTER
TWO
Clarissa waited in the coffee shop, mulling over the events
of the day. Occasionally she wiped away the
condensation that blocked her view, but after half an hour,
there was still no sign of Julian or the BMW.
Just as she was about to give up, she saw the car turn the
corner. But when she looked, the driver was definitely
not Julian. She was certain it was the same licence
number, but the driver was a red-haired woman, and she was
alone.
Clarissa mumbled to the waitress that she was going out for a
paper, and the girl kindly handed her an umbrella. The
rain had not let up once, and a slight breeze blew into her
face. She held the umbrella down low as she
turned the corner, and to her relief, she saw Julian sitting
in a different car, a dark blue Mercedes, reading the
newspaper and eating a sandwich.
Clarissa made a mental note of the licence number, and walked
over to the small paper shop just behind Julian’s car.
She bought several magazines to help pass the time, for
she knew she didn’t want to lose him.
As Clarissa emerged from the shop, she lingered in the
doorway, pretending to have difficulty opening the umbrella.
She peered in to see if she could discover any indication as
to what he was up to.
Clarissa gasped in dismay as Julian started up the car, and
began driving down to the corner. Short of running
after him and throwing herself in front of the moving
vehicle, what could she do?
Her panic subsided as she saw he was taking the space just
next to the coffee shop she had been sitting in, so that he
could get a full view of the front and side entrances of the
hotel.
Clarissa knew that standing in the rain outside would be too
obvious, so she went back inside the shop, and resumed her
window seat. The waitress kindly brought her another
pot of coffee, and Clarissa thanked her as she returned the
umbrella.
Clarissa sat with one eye on the magazine she held in front
of her face, and the other on Julian at the front entrance to
the hotel. She tried to decide what to do. Get in
the car and confront him? Follow him home whenever he
finished his shift?
Clarissa sat bolt upright, wary, as Julian got out of the
car, and fished a small black bag and a large briefcase out
of the back. He put on a pair of reflective Ray-Bans,
absurd really considering the weather, and after shaking his
hair out like a dog, he entered the hotel through the front
entrance.
Clarissa concluded he must have gone to check into a room,
the better to keep an eye on the two scientists. But why was
he following them?
In spite of her attempts to avoid the pain of such
reflections, Clarissa thought back to his death, the accident
five years ago. Even further back, to when they
had first met. There had to be a clue to all this.
If only she knew what it was!
Dr. Clarissa Vincent had gone to work at Simmons
Petrochemicals straight out of university. She
had been offered the chance to stay on and lecture at
Harvard, but the chance to work on environmental projects and
consult at John Hopkins’ University on cell biology had
seemed far more of a challenge to Clarissa.
In fact, it had been the opportunity of a lifetime for an
ambitious young woman with no money or family. Her
parents had emigrated from Ireland when she was eleven in
order to help her fulfil the promise she had displayed at an
early age. Michael and Fiona Vincent had only ever
managed to have the one child, after dozens of miscarriages,
but were delighted with their remarkable daughter.
They had settled in New York, working three or four jobs
each, cooking, cleaning, labouring, in order to give Clarissa
everything. Her parents both wore themselves to a frazzle,
and she certainly wasn't spoiled. She too worked, as a
secretary after school, and eventually, in hospitals as a
candy-striper, a young trainee practising to be a nurse.
Impressed with her clear mind and swift intellect,
Clarissa’s teachers all encouraged her to think beyond
just a nursing career, to becoming a doctor. But
Clarissa loved the challenge of research, problem-solving,
and she was idealistic enough to imagine that one day, she
could find a cure for cancer, or AIDS.
In her last year of high school, she was poised for a
promising career working at Beth Israel Hospital, when fate
suddenly dealt her a crushing blow. Her parents were
both killed in a shocking subway crash, and Clarissa felt the
bottom drop out of her world. She was alone, still at
school, and orphaned.
Her school work saved her from total despair, and out of the
ashes, she was able to build a sound future for herself in
the most unexpected way. All of her teachers, and
several of the doctors she had impressed at Beth Israel,
encouraged her to apply for university scholarships, and
Clarissa never looked back.
All of the years of scrimping and saving had left her a small
nest egg, but the scholarships Clarissa won ensured she would
have four years of study, and much better job prospects at
the end of her degree.
But more importantly, it helped Clarissa’s own burning
desire to succeed, to make her parents proud of her. She
finished the four year course in only two, by taking more
classes than normal each term, and studying throughout the
summers.
Dr. Jamieson, her tutor and supervisor, advised one day as
she neared her graduation, “Clarissa, you must slow
down, take a year out from work or study. You’ll
burn yourself out if you keep this up, and then where will
all your grand plans be?”
He smiled indulgently at the bright, beautiful young woman
young enough to be his granddaughter, but Clarissa had
shrugged.
“Life’s too short. You never know when it
will be taken away. I really am happy.”
“But your grief over the death of your parents is
blighting your whole life. You’ve become a
workaholic to block out the grief, but sooner or later it
will all come gushing out, and you may not be able to
cope.”
Clarissa never smiled, to Dr. Jamieson’s knowledge, she
just grimaced. “I am fine, really. All
I want to do is study, and carry on my research.”
“You never date, go to any of the parties on campus.
If you will forgive an old man saying so, you have looks any
woman would give her right arm for, and all the men here are
completely smitten by you. Go out, enjoy
yourself!”
“I’m too busy, Dr. Jamieson, and in any case I have
better things to do than exchange small talk with pimply
youths who grope me like an octopus.”
So despite all of Dr. Jamieson’s sound advice, she had
gone on to complete her Master and PH. D in record time, and
was one of the youngest scientists Harvard had ever
graduated, at just twenty-two.
Dr. Jamieson had been so right about so many things, Clarissa
paused to reflect ruefully, as she reached up and rubbed the
mist off the window for the hundredth time.
“Waiting for your boyfriend, are you?” the waitress
asked, as she pointed to the pot of coffee questioningly.
“No, thanks, no more, or I’ll float away,”
Clarissa shook her head.
“The ladies’ room is at the back. He must be
pretty late. But you’ve got a bit of time to
freshen up before he comes. You look like you been on
the bus all night,” the waitress observed, trying to be
kind. “You tell me what he looks like, I’ll
watch for him while you go up the back.”
“Tall, dark, and handsome,” Clarissa finally
managed to say, remembering how altered his appearance was
from the time she had first know him.
Clarissa hastily took advantage of the waitress’ offer.
If she was going to confront Julian after so many years, she
certainly didn't want to be at any more of a disadvantage
than she already was.
A quick glance in the mirror told her that her naturally wavy
black hair was hanging down her back in rat tails, and the
dark circles under her eyes betrayed her strain and lack of
sleep. Her skin, always white, was now practically
transparent, and if she had thought the haunted look in her
piercing aqua eyes would have gone because of the knowledge
that Julian was still alive, she was mistaken. If
anything, they looked even more pained and desolate.
When she returned to her table, the waitress was still gazing
out of the pate glass window intently, and said, “Sorry,
dearie, no sign of him. Probably the rain delayed him,
but it seems to be letting up now.”
“Thanks for your trouble. I won’t have any
more coffee, but how about some of that luscious-looking
lemon meringue I saw on the counter.”
“Sure thing, and I’ll come keep you company if
that's ok. I’m allowed a break, and I’m dying
for a smoke. I shouldn’t really, but if it’s
here by the door I’m all right.”
Clarissa thought the last thing she wanted was company, but
she needed a refuge, at least during the daylight hours, if
she was going to keep an eye on Julian until she firstly
figured out what he was up to, and secondly decided to
approach him. She was reluctant to do the second,
however, until she was more sure of the first. What if
he were in some kind of trouble, or worse still, what if he
were involved in something illegal? After all, people
didn't pretend to be dead for no reason.
The waitress, who introduced herself as Molly, forced
Clarissa to put aside this terrifying thought, as she gushed,
“So tell me all about it then! How did you
meet?”
“I went to work for his company. He was the boss,
I was the hot new scientist. I think it was love at
first sight, from the moment I walked into the interview and
saw his steel-grey eyes resting on me, but I didn't dare
admit it to myself,” Clarissa said quietly, and one of
her rare smiles peeped out as she reminisced.
“I had had my pick of millions of jobs after I
graduated, but fate seemed to tell me I belonged in his
factory in Baltimore, so I took the job. It wasn’t
like me to be so impetuous. As soon as I arrived, it
was like all the pieces of the puzzle had fallen into place.
Whenever Julian and I met, it was like being struck by
lightning.”
“Gosh,” Molly gushed. “It must have been
fate. Go on, what happened next?”
“Within a few weeks, I had moved into his penthouse
suite, and we were the most fabulous couple. We had so
much in common, and I couldn’t believe my luck. Love
at first sight happened to other women, not crusty old
academics like me. I’d never even been out
on a date before. I resisted his invitations at first,
just thinking it was simple flattery, or pity for the lonely
new girl in town.
“But eventually he wore me down, and I trusted my
judgement. I was completely, absolutely, utterly head
over heels in love. Any doubts I had were swept away by
our first kiss,” Clarissa remembered with a sigh.
“After that, it all moved along so fast, it was like
being swept off my feet. Julian and I were inseparable,
but both of us unfortunately were also workaholics. We
spent nearly all of our time together, but usually at the
lab. His type of work was different from mine,
and of course he also had the company to run, but we shared
as much as we could, and for the first time in many years I
wasn’t alone.
“Occasionally we’d get a break, and of course
we travelled everywhere, all over the world together, for
conferences. The days were long, the nights
longer,” she breathed, a soft blush colouring her cheeks
as she remembered the towering passion that they had shared.
“God, it sounds like heaven!” Molly breathed, but
then she frowned, as she stubbed out her cigarette in the
ashtray. “But you keep saying ‘was’.
Did you guys split up or something?”
“Well, not exactly. He was in an accident, and
things somehow never seemed the same after that. We
drifted apart,” Clarissa said, suddenly feeling as
though she was suffocating.
“Maybe he didn't want to get married? I’ve
met a lot of guys like that,” Molly said wisely, through
cracks of her chewing gum.
“No, that wasn't the problem. He had already
proposed. I had the biggest engagement ring I’d
ever seen. We were up in Cape Cod, on the beach all by
ourselves in the twilight, on a wintry, starry night, when he
got down on his knees and asked me. I said yes, and we
bought the ring the next day.”
“You still got it?” Molly asked eagerly. Reluctantly,
Clarissa pulled out the chain from around her neck.
“Golly!” Molly exclaimed. “Look at them
diamonds and sapphires. Put it on!”
Clarissa protested, but Molly offered, “Here, I’ll
help you with the chain. What harm can it do to wear
it?”
In the end, it glittered once again on her finger, where it
had remained for several years after Julian’s death,
until his brother Jared had told her she had to stop hanging
onto the past. Jared had even tried to persuade her to
sell the ring, so Clarissa had quietly taken it off her
finger one day, but had worn it secretly on the long gold
chain under her clothes ever since.
“I even bought him a ring,” Clarissa continued.
“I didn’t have much money, but I got him a
scrimshaw carved band, you know, the things the whalers used
to make with the bones and teeth?”
“I know the ones you mean! They’re real
pretty,” Molly enthused, after a pause.
“I’m pretty sure last time I saw him, he was still
wearing it,” Clarissa reflected, remembering the glimpse
of his hand she had seen at the airport.
“But his brother, Jared, the company lawyer, was always
jealous, and he was interested in me as well. He kept
telling me my relationship with Julian was doomed, that he
was just using me for the business, to get his hands on my
work.”
Clarissa sighed. “I tried not to believe Jared,
but I had doubts, became insecure in Julian’s love.
Then the accident happened, we separated, and that was pretty
much the end of it.”
“Until now?” Molly asked quietly, staring at
Clarissa’s lovely but pained face.
“Until now,” Clarissa agreed.
“How have you guys got back together?”
“Coincidence I suppose, really. I’m meant to
be taking a temporary job out here to help his brother,
Jared. We’ve bumped into each other,” she
said truthfully.
“It sounds just so romantic,” Molly giggled. “I
hope it works out for you.”
“So do I.”
Once the girl was gone, Clarissa felt restless. She
couldn’t stay there all day stuffing herself with food
when she wasn't even hungry. She wanted to talk to
Julian, but was still unsure. What exactly had she run
into?
She paid the bill and thanked Molly for all her help, and
then walked up and down the street for a few minutes, trying
to enjoy the fresh air and the warmth of the sun’s rays
as the clouds began to disappear.
Clarissa had never been to Portland, so she didn't want to
run the risk of getting lost, but she certainly couldn’t
hang around forever. Night would be coming soon,
and she needed her luggage from the airport, and a
place to stay. She had been hoping for a small holiday
before taking up her consultancy work with Jared for the new
Simmons Petrochemical factory. It was ridiculous to
stall any longer.
Decisively, Clarissa marched back up the street. Enough
was enough. The car was sitting right there, and Julian
had left it unlocked. All of her doubts and fears
hinged on whether or not he were doing anything illegal.
Perhaps she could put those fears to rest by searching inside
the car for some clue as to his activities, or where he had
been for five years.
She hoisted her bag securely across one shoulder to leave her
hands free. Then, though she was trembling like a leaf,
she managed to grasp the handle of the door on the passenger
side.
She crouched down on the sidewalk as she flipped through the
maps in the pocket of the door. All of Portland,
Oregon, Washington State, the West Coast of Canada, and even
Alaska, she noticed. That didn't really tell her too
much, except he had relocated to this area, though how long
ago she could not tell.
Opening the glove compartment next, Clarissa noticed the
vehicle was registered in the name of Jeremy Alexander
Sinclair. A new name? The initials were the same
as for Julian Anthony Simmons, for everyone at his old
university had called him Jas, or Jazz, after his favourite
kind of music as well.
But the address listed was Washington, DC, not Washington
State, and the photo on the driver’s licence was the
altered Julian. The statistics for his height and
weight were the same, but the hair and eyes read black and
brown. The birth date was the same as well, July 16,
1957, but the social security number was completely
different. Clarissa remembered this because their own
two numbers had been very similar, yet now the first three
digits were 567, instead of 090.
Who could give him a whole new identity, false papers, a new
life? And why?
Trembling violently, Clarissa reached deeper into the glove
compartment, and her bare fingers touched cold steel. She
gasped and pulled her hand back. What would Julian be
doing with a gun?
The answer was made painfully obvious to her as she was
yanked upright by her hair, and she could feel a very solid
object thrust forcefully into the small of her back.
“If you make one false move, I’ll kill you. Now
drop the gun.”
“I-I-I haven’t got it,” Clarissa stammered, as
she slowly, cautiously raised her arms to show Julian she was
empty-handed.
Roughly, Julian thrust her up against the door of the car,
while he stretched over to check that his other gun was still
in the glove compartment. He thumped it shut and then
pushed her over while he slammed and locked the car door.
“Now, turn around slowly, slowly, mind, and face
me,” Julian commanded, and Clarissa took a gulp of air.
What could she say, how could she explain all this? Clarissa
turned on her heel hesitantly, in an agony of mixed emotions.
She longed to look into his eyes again, but how could things
be the same after five years?
Finally she was staring at his broad chest, and with all the
strength of will she could muster, she lifted her chin
proudly to face him boldly.
“Julian, it’s me. I couldn't help it. I had
to find out if it was really you, if you were really still
alive.”
Shock and anger crossed his features, and he stood there
staring at her as though he too had seen a ghost. The
butt of his gun still dug into her, pressing into the soft
flesh of her belly. She felt fear as well as desire as
he stood so close. Clarissa remembered with
indescribable longing the musky male scent of him, which had
always made her go weak at the knees.
The brown eyes, so foreign and yet so familiar, bored into
her, and she licked her lips and pleaded again, “Julian,
it’s me. Please, there’s no need for this,
and people will start looking in a second.”
“Clarissa! You of all people!” he raged, as
he finally believed what he was seeing, and began to register
emotions again.
She sagged against him, fear giving way
to relief, but he slammed her up against the car more
forcefully, snapping her head back up for her to meet his
gaze, which was glittering with fury.
“Clarissa Vincent!” he
spat, as if the words were distasteful to him. “I
ought to shoot you here and now!”
