Dakota (Ch 30)

She descended the stairs and turned the corner into the kitchen. She didn't like that the house was under surveillance from the FBI. It made her nervous. She was prepared for whatever came her way. She wasn't afraid. Perhaps she had feared Pablo de Amantillo before, but not now, not here. This was her home. It may have taken a while for her to realize that. But she knew it now. And she wasn't about to lose everything she had gained. She rounded the island and headed back towards the front door. She crossed the living room and knelt on the sofa, facing the window. She gently lifted her fingers to the dusty slats that kept out the sun. She bent them down and light filtered in. She lowered her head and peered through the crack. She saw the car parked just off the front path, two bodies inside. She looked further up the lane and saw the other detail. She felt all eight eyes on her. They burned through the gap in the blinds. She didn't like being watched. It didn't matter who was doing the watching. It made her nervous, uncomfortable.

She slid her finger back and let the blind snap into position, creating a small cloud of dust. She raised her hand and wiped her nose. She tucked her hair behind her left ear and rubbed her own neck. Her hand trailed down and met her collarbone. Her tiny fingers traced the bone to the center of her chest. There her fingers rested. They gently rubbed the tiny golden pendant that hung from a simple delicate gold chain. She had worn it so long, it had become a part of her. She had forgotten it was even there. It just always was. She paused for a moment to think about how long it had been. She couldn't believe she had held onto it all these years. It seemed like something she should have-or at least would have thrown away long ago. Her fingers still lingered on the pendant that hung on the chain.

She pulled her legs out from beneath her and rested against the arm of the sofa. She tilted her head back. She caressed that tiny heart. Blink. She let her eyes go closed. She was ten again. It was the last time she remembered everyone together in the house. She remembered the smells. Apple pie was in the oven. She remembered the fire crackling in the hearth. She remembered begging her dad to roast marshmallows over the flames. He obliged, reluctantly. It had been a cold autumn. Snow came early. She hated the cold. She lived in a red cardigan from October to March. She remembered that night. Jason and Jake had come home. They had made it just before the storm really got bad. The house was locked up tight. The wind whipped the snow between the bare trees. It whistled as it weaved its way through the woods. But the Samuels were all safe and warm at home.

She remembered the night like it was only the day before. The images were vivid. The colors, the textures, the tastes, the smells. They were all right there. She sat next to her father, between the fire and the tree. Mom sat between her two sons on the sofa. She was so proud that they were both successful in the big city. She beamed with joy to have them back at home with her. Jason sat on her right, his hand in her lap. Jake sat on the left, his hand in her lap. Everyone was happy.

That was the last moment she could remember everyone being happy together. That Christmas came and went. Jake and Jason went back to Chicago. The snow melted. The moment faded. Happiness faded.

She opened her eyes. Her fingers remained on the pendant. Blink.

She reentered the memory. She remembered sitting in the leather chair, legs across one arm. Her fingers still sticky with marshmallow remnants. Mom still wore her gingham apron. She remembered her mother nodding with an approving smile. Her father took the cue and stepped next to the tree. He reached under the low hanging branches of the Spruce and grasped a tiny red box. The silver bow atop it had started to come loose. He tightened it with a careful motion and placed it in his daughter's lap. He grasped her hands and wiped them on the sides of his shirt.

"Open it."

She remembered staring at it, half afraid. Four happy, staring faces looked on. She liked waiting until Christmas morning for her presents. She took a moment before-

"Go on...open it."

Her mother urged.

She sat forward and placed her feet on the ground. She tugged at the loose end of the bow with two fingers and the ribbon unwound. She remembered carefully placing it over her right knee. She remembered seeing the corner of the yellowed tape against the shiny red paper. She picked at it with her fingernail, before ripping it off. The tiny white wooden box inside was not fancy. But she immediately knew her father had made it. On the top, a 'J' was carved. She pushed the lid up with her thumb. Within the box, on a small white satin pillow, rested the necklace she now wore.

"Wait. There's more."

Her father had said. She remembered the excitement in his voice. He reached forward and his coarse fingers fumbled with the fragile piece of jewelry. It took a minute, but he finally got it.

"Here."

He placed it back in his only daughter's hands. She peered down at it. There, in the center of the locket, was her family.

Blink.

Her left hand was frozen on the locket. But her right reached to wipe the tears from her eyes. Ten years had passed. And only now did she remember that Christmas. There were happy times. This was home. She had let it slip away. She had spent years running from what she didn't even realize she had. It took coming back to see to that. A smile crept across her face.

"It's funny where a journey takes you."

She spoke softly to herself. She waited a minute longer before letting her hand release the pendant. She rose from the sofa and stepped back toward the kitchen. She called up the stairs.

"Jake, you still up for pancakes?"

She thought she heard the faint mutter of a response. She reached over the island and pulled the skillet off the hook. She placed it on the stove and gathered the ingredients. She went about the preparations and was stirring the batter when the phone rang. She held the bowl in one arm and reached for the receiver. She pressed the button and held the phone to her ear.

"Hello."

She didn't think. She had just reacted. She didn't recognize the voice on the other end. But she felt the voice knew her. She tried to think. She shouldn't have answered.

"Janie? Um, no, um Janie hasn't been released from rehab yet."

She lied. She set the bowl on the counter and wiped the sweat from her palm on the side of her jeans.

"Me? Sorry, this is Rebekah. Can I take a message for Janie? We hope she'll be home next week."

She lied again.

"No message? Can I ask who's calling?"

The voice on the other end went silent. Her finger mashed down the button and she dropped the phone on the counter. She pushed her bangs back with her right hand and took a deep breath. She knew she needed to tell the men in the cars parked outside. They needed to know what she had done. She heard a knock at the door. They already knew.

She slowly moved to the door. She peered through the peephole and saw the badge held up next to the man in the gray suit. She turned the handle and ushered him in.

"Sir."

"Ma'am."

She pushed the door closed behind him.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking. My mind had been somewhere else."

"You can't go and do that to us. We weren't prepared. I don't think we can wait outside anymore. We need to have someone in here with you."

"No. My brother and I are fine. We can't be prisoners here. We have no idea when they're coming back. I can't have you here indefinitely. You're just fine where you are."

"I understand your frustrations, but we are trying to protect you. But you have to work with us. You can't just answer every phone call, and especially not right now. They're having a little trouble with the tap out here. We can't trace anything right now. OK?"

"OK. I'm sorry, I am. I just wasn't thinking."

"Well, who was it? What did they want?"

"Just someone looking for me."

"Goddammit."

"It's fine. It is. After I answered I realized I shouldn't have-so I lied."

"You lied?"

"Yeah. I just said that she was still in rehab."

"You didn't tell them who you were?"

"No. I said my name was Rebekah...that's Jake's ex."

"I know who Rebekah is. Kahle briefed me. We've got someone on her too, just in case."

"So now what?"

"What do you mean, now what?"

"Well..."

"Well, did you recognize the voice."

"No, I don't think so."

"Then we just wait."