VoyForums
[ Show ]
Support VoyForums
[ Shrink ]
VoyForums Announcement: Programming and providing support for this service has been a labor of love since 1997. We are one of the few services online who values our users' privacy, and have never sold your information. We have even fought hard to defend your privacy in legal cases; however, we've done it with almost no financial support -- paying out of pocket to continue providing the service. Due to the issues imposed on us by advertisers, we also stopped hosting most ads on the forums many years ago. We hope you appreciate our efforts.

Show your support by donating any amount. (Note: We are still technically a for-profit company, so your contribution is not tax-deductible.) PayPal Acct: Feedback:

Donate to VoyForums (PayPal):

[ Login ] [ Contact Forum Admin ] [ Main index ] [ Post a new message ] [ Search | Check update time | Archives: [1], 2, 3, 4, 5, 6 ]

[ Next Thread | Previous Thread | Next Message | Previous Message ]

Date Posted: 16:08:56 04/30/03 Wed
Author: dqfan
Subject: Re: Ghosts - ch.46 & 47
In reply to: dqfan 's message, "Re: Ghosts - ch.45" on 16:57:32 04/29/03 Tue

CHAPTER FORTY SIX Friday morning, a little after midnight


Even in her weakened condition, Ivy's piercing gaze held the power to shake Peter's confidence.

"You're bluffing…." she concluded finally, certain Peter would have produced the locket long before this - if he actually had it.

Desperate, Peter grappled to keep her interested. "I'm not bluffing," he blurted quickly. "Lila's locket is yours, if you tell me where Sophie is."

Pushing further, he taunted, "That is, unless you don't care…"

"I mean, the portrait's nice and all, but the locket…that's something Lila actually wore…something she cherished."

Peter didn't need to remind Ivy of what she knew already. There was nothing in the world she would love more, than to be able to wear Lila's locket proudly around her neck. Just the possibility was virtually irresistible.

Recklessly, Peter continued to goad her. "Funny how life turns out, isn't it?" he commented casually. "Bet you never thought Gus and I would end up owning your two most precious heirlooms…"

Charity and Gus eyed each other warily. Peter wasn't just playing with matches. He was setting a raging inferno - intentionally - and without a single rescue squad in sight.

"It's really a shame, too…" he reminded Ivy bluntly. "Gus'll probably sell the portrait, and I've been wanting to return the locket to Charity for years - what with it belonging to Grandpa Hank and all…"

Enraged, Ivy lunged at Peter. Defensively, he took a step backwards, watching as her security straps strained, but held.

"It belongs to me!" She screamed hysterically. "Let me see it!"

Doggedly, Peter held his ground. "Where's Sophie?" he insisted harshly.

Ivy's smile was sickeningly sweet, her demeanor changing blithely from one moment to the next. With a satisfied sigh, she let her head fall back against the pillow.

"The queen is dead," she relished, lazily twirling a lock of hair around her finger. "Long live the queen…"

Crazy or not, Ivy's antics were wearing thin and her veiled meanings had Peter petrified. What if it was already too late to save Sophie?

Discreetly, Gus moved to Peter's side. "Don't listen to her," he advised quietly. "She's lost it…"

Unfortunately, Ivy overheard and, livid, she lashed out once again. Her mental state was no cause for Gus Leighton's concern.

"Lost?" Ivy chuckled to herself. "Poor Gus…you always were slow," she sneered. "I've won already, can't you see?"

His patience at an end, Peter rushed toward Ivy, with fire in his eyes. Furious, he untied her restraints, and seized her by the shoulders.

"Tell me, dammit!" He shook her forcefully. "Tell me! Is Sophie dead?"

Feeding off of Peter's passionate outburst, Ivy ran her hands provocatively up and down his arms, deriving pleasure from his closeness. "Peter, Darling, you know what it does to me when you're like this, but, we should wait until we're alone, my love…"

Slowly, Peter's grip on Ivy's shoulders slid upwards, encircling her neck. He'd never wanted to kill someone so much in all his life.

"Peter!" Charity's voice beckoned him from the brink.

Regaining his senses, Peter relaxed his touch and bottled his anger. Wisely, he opted to mimic Ivy's affectionate tone. "Do you want the locket or not, my love?"

Manipulative as always, Ivy pulled Peter closer and softly issued her demands. "I want it all. The locket, the sketch, AND my freedom…"

"Then, you can have your precious Sophie," she seethed, before releasing Peter with a shove.

Her ultimatum issued, Ivy closed her eyes and slumped back onto the bed. The conversation had exhausted her, both physically and emotionally, and her body needed to rest. The next move was Peter's. Until then, their discussion was clearly over.

"Why don't we step outside…" Gently, Charity placed her arm around Peter while Gus refastened Ivy's restraints before they left.

Ivy seemed to drain the lifeblood out of everyone within a ten-mile radius. Perhaps, a little distance would do them all some good.

Preoccupied with his thoughts, Peter followed without a word.

As the three reconvened in the waiting area, Charity expected they would weigh all their options.

"We've got to get her out of here…" Dramatically, Peter broke his silence.

"What?" That definitely wasn't one of the options Charity had in mind.

"Are you crazy?" Having raised his voice, Gus immediately glanced over his shoulder. Thankfully, Detective O'Neill was nowhere in sight.

Swiftly, he lowered his tone into a whisper. "Listen, I know how much you want to believe her, Peter. But, trust me…that woman can play more games than Milton Bradley."

"I hate to say it, but Sophie could be dead already," Gus finished sadly, for he could still picture Sophie's smile, so brilliant as she ate that first bite of banana split, and recall the taste of her lips, so soft and sweet, upon his…

"Don't you think I know that!" Distraught, Peter ran his hands through his hair and began to pace. "But it's the only choice I have."

"Peter…" Charity placed her hand on his arm to still him. "Ivy tried to kill Ben - not to mention Stanley. We'd be accessories."

Adamant, Peter refused to be swayed. "I'm betting that Leroy killed Stanley."

"And he was probably the one who tried to kill Ben that night at the hotel," Peter surmised correctly. "So, that would just leave conspiracy and the attempt on Ben's life today."

"Oh, good…" Charity rolled her eyes in exasperation.

"Look, Harry's a friend of Ben's," Peter argued, desperate. "If this all works out, he'll smooth things over for us. I know he will."

"If this work out," Charity repeated ominously.

"We can handle her, Charity." Peter was sure of it. "After all, Gus was married to Ivy. He knows her better than anyone…"

"Some guys have all the luck," Gus quipped with a shrug, prompting a sympathetic smile from Charity in return.

"Where's the locket?" she asked Peter out of curiosity.

Guiltily, he gulped. "I think Sophie has it…"

Charity and Gus shared a sigh. "Naturally," Charity hung her head.

"Does he bluff like this at poker, too?" Gus wondered, hopelessly.

Distracted, Peter caught sight of Ivy's doctor, heading in to check on her. With a look, Peter raised his index finger to his lips, silencing Gus and Charity, as he pointed toward the door. The doctor's findings would be critical.

Patiently, they waited for the examination to be completed. Then, casually, Peter intercepted him as he left…

"How's Ms. Wilcox doing, Doctor?" Peter asked, hoping his ulterior motives weren't obvious.

Curious, Gus and Charity eavesdropped as best they could.

"Well, her vitals have stabilized," the doctor informed him briefly. "But I'm concerned about the lingering effects of the poison, especially coupled with her troubling mental state."

"Extended psychiatric care is definitely warranted," he summarized concisely. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a page to answer…"

Peter nodded, returning to Charity and Gus, armed with all the information he needed. "She's stable but probably not competent to stand trial. We have to move fast…"

"Well, then, what are we waiting for?" Charity's decisive exclamation may have surprised Gus, but not Peter. For, when the chips were down, Charity was never far from his side - whenever he needed her. And, as much as she might try to reason with him, given enough time, this dangerous, hairbrained scheme was just the sort of thing no redblooded Lawson could ever resist.

"I'll stall Harry somehow," she began confidently. "Peter, you sweettalk Ivy out of here. Gus, go get the painting. We'll rendezvous in the hotel lobby in half an hour. This late at night, we should be able to blend right in…"

"Ivy will have her freedom and the painting. We can deal with Sophie and the locket after that. Any questions?"

Neither man dared comment until Charity had disappeared to find Harry. Only then, did Gus pull Peter aside.

"Are we sure about this?" he muttered, doubtfully. Part Annie Oakley and part General Patton, Charity Lawson was beginning to scare him almost as much as Ivy.

"Not really, no…" Peter admitted, scaring himself equally in the process.

Gratefully, Peter extended his hand to Gus for luck. "Meet you in a half an hour - partner."

Warmly, Gus accepted Peter's good wishes, departing with a final promise.

"We'll find her…"

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Reggie was just finishing up some paperwork when Bruno appeared, sporting his usual dour expression.

"The suspect was apprehended without incident…" Bruno reported tersely.

Reggie looked up from his desk and scowled. In the last twenty-four hours, he'd become fearless of anyone or anything - including Bruno.

So, while he trusted the big lug more than he could say, Reggie didn't even try to curb his frustration.

"Bruno," he reprimanded sharply. "We've had this conversation before! Now, I'm tired and hungry and worried clear out of my mind, and I'm not gonna ask you again… Speak English!"

Chagrined, Bruno nodded in apology. "Sorry, Reg."

Trying harder, Bruno rephrased succinctly, "The cops nabbed Leroy."

Now, THAT, Reggie understood…

"What? Where? When? How?" How could Reggie possibly have missed such an important development?

Suddenly, Reggie was sorry for every harsh word he'd ever said to Bruno.

"Five plainclothes detectives, through the casino entrance, ten minutes ago," Bruno explained. "No fuss, no fight…all the weasel asked was if he could keep his chips and finish his whiskey."

Reggie chuckled and smiled. "Did you get the chips?" he winked at Bruno.

Amazingly, Bruno actually winked back. "The Boss wouldn'ta had it any other way…"

As Bruno emptied Leroy's winnings onto Reggie's desk, Reggie glanced at the clock. Just a little after midnight… the first good news of a new day.

Optimistically, Reggie sat back in his chair. "You know, Bruno, I've been thinking…"

Whether Bruno thought that was a good idea or not, he managed to keep to himself. But, Reggie had been thinking - all evening, in fact. About anyway and everyway that he and Bruno could help in the search for Sophie.

"Thinking about what, Reg?" Bruno asked warily.

"About Gus…" Reggie was a million miles away, troubled by his last conversation with Gus. "Gus thinks Sophie flew out of Vegas and back again, virtually overnight."

"Now, pretend you're a beautiful woman, Bruno," Reggie mused out loud, oblivious to the incongruity of his statement.

If it had been anyone but Reggie, Bruno would have reached for his gun…

"I said, pretend!" Reggie huffed, seeing the look on Bruno's face.

"You're a beautiful woman, a newlywed, and you've flown all night to find out something that could help your adoring, if entirely too good looking, husband."

Bruno nodded, pondering the scenario studiously.

"You fly back and what's the first thing you do?" Reggie asked him, pointedly.

Bruno considered the question carefully. "I…uh…run to tell my too good looking husband what I found out?"

"Exactly!" Reggie exclaimed, locking Leroy's chips into his desk drawer with a flourish.

"Exactly what?" Bruno wondered, puzzled.

"Exactly what I thought…" Reggie pounced, thrilled that Bruno agreed with him.

"Huh?" Bruno wasn't quite sure what he'd just agreed to…

"If Sophie flew back this morning she would have headed right back here to the hotel to see Peter. But Peter was here this morning. And Ivy was here with him…"

How well Reggie remembered Peter and Ivy's cozy morning breakfast together. The vision was indelibly etched in his mind.

"They went to Charity's hearing together. They were together all the time."

"Except…"

"Except?" Bruno knew better than to like the word "except."

"Except for when Peter and I were searching Sophie's room. He and Gus had their little disagreement in the hall. Peter went looking for Ivy and…"

"And?" Bruno followed along dutifully.

"He couldn't find her…" Reggie gulped.

"Uh-oh," Bruno frowned.

Frantically, the wheels in Reggie's mind turned. "Bruno? How often are the lobby surveillance tapes erased?"

"Every twenty-four hours," Bruno replied professionally.

"So, we still have yesterday morning's tapes?" Reggie's face brightened.

"What time?" Bruno was on the phone to the third floor, security command station already.

Reggie recalled seeing Ivy at breakfast and then again in the lobby, before she and Peter left for Charity's hearing. She was missing for less than an hour. "Give me 9-10am…"

"They'll have it ready in five minutes," Bruno advised, finishing the call. "You wanna be there when we run it?"

In reply, Reggie pulled out his "The Concierge Will Return in One Hour" sign and plopped it on his desk.

"What are we waiting for?"

^^^^^^^^^^^

CHAPTER FORTY SEVEN


"Harry!" Charity's call to Detective O'Neill came just in time to stop him from entering Ivy's hospital room.

"One of the nurses just told me Ben's regaining consciousness!" she exclaimed excitedly.

"Well, that's good news…" Harry was a bit surprised at Charity's effervescence but happy for her nonetheless.

"Won't you come and say hello?" she invited eagerly. "Ben will be delighted to see you."

"Well, I should see to my questioning of Ms. Wilcox if she's up to it." Excusing himself, Harry pointed to Ivy's room.

"Oh, wait, please…" Charity insisted, before Harry's hand could touch Ivy's doorknob. "I know he'd want to thank you personally for all you've done."

Gallantly, Harry acquiesced.

"I guess a few minutes couldn't hurt…"

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

"C'mon, get dressed!" Brusquely, Peter untied Ivy's restraints and handed her her clothes.

Refreshed from her little nap, Ivy was as troublesome as ever.

"In the mood for some more fun, my love?" she cooed excitedly, placing her hands on his chest.

Sternly, Peter grasped her hands in his and held them tight. "If you want out of here, then you'll do as I say - understood?"

With a smile, Ivy looked at her clothes and realized her gambit had paid off. Peter had capitulated to her demands, just to save his precious little wife. Too bad Ivy wasn't sure if Sophie was even still alive. Oh well, there'd be other ways to comfort Peter somehow…

"Aren't you at least going to turn around while I change?" she baited him coyly.

"And have you knock me out with a bedpan?" Peter scoffed. "I don't think so… Now, hurry up!"

"Suit yourself, Darling." Employing as many of Janet's moves as she could, Ivy reached behind her neck, unsnapped her hospital gown, and changed into her dress.

Showing no emotion whatsoever, Peter watched, and then handed Ivy her shoes.

"Follow me…"

^^^^^^^^^^^^^

"I don't understand it!" Charity appeared practically on the verge of tears. "The nurse said he was coming around…"

With the woeful eyes of a baby deer and the acting talents of Greta Garbo, Charity clutched Harry's hand for support.

"I'm sorry…" she exhaled deeply. "I just need him so much."

Harry squirmed uncomfortably. He wasn't used to consoling emotional women. "Well, sure, I can understand that…" he mumbled meekly.

With considerable charm, Charity dried her crocodile tears. Her voice shaky, she asked plaintively, "Would you mind very much sitting with Ben while I grabbed myself a cup of tea?"

"I would hate for him to wake up to an empty room," she added, for good measure.

"Well, I…"As much as Harry wanted to interrogate Ivy, he just couldn't refuse Charity's request.

Incredibly compelling and - for her age - still quite beautiful, Harry couldn't imagine that very many men ever said no to Charity, whatever the reason.

So, with an indulgent smile, Harry patted her hand gently.

Then, he kindheartedly told Charity exactly what she wanted to hear.

"You just go on and take your time…"

^^^^^^^^^^^^

He was home…back in the land of one-armed bandits, shapely senoritas, and roulette balls bouncing merrily from black to red and black again.

It was all Gus could do not to click his heels and do a few cartwheels in the lobby as he entered the Sahara Sands and sighed. After a night spent in a cold, dark, tunnel and a day spent in the antiseptic world of St. Elizabeth's Hospital, the bright lights and bold colors of his hotel warmed Gus' senses and filled his heart with joy. Even the sight of Reggie's concierge desk came close to bringing a tear to his eye.

That is, until Gus noted the "Concierge Will Return…" sign with disdain. So, where was the kid - or Bruno, for that matter? Here it was…nearly 1am - height of the day, Vegas time - and his security chief and de facto second were nowhere to be found. Ordinarily, Gus would have been furious, but there just wasn't time...

Punching the elevator button, Gus paced nervously.

He had a date with a painting upstairs…

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

It had started as no more than a soft trickle, the moisture dampening the ground below him. Slowly, it moved closer, ebbing with the twists and turns of the tunnel until it reached Sophie's still body, her clothes soaking up the first evidence of its arrival.

Sully watched, stricken, as the water advanced evenly, creeping toward Sophie as stealthily as a murderer would approach his unsuspecting victim.

"Ma…" Reeling, Sully took a step toward Sophie and then froze, all his senses instantly transported to another time and place.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

New York City in the 1840's was typically a bleak canvas of grays and blacks - but not that day. No, that day the sun had shone brightly, making the murky Hudson dance with a thousand shimmering lights.

It was Friday, November 16th, 1847, and the riverfront was bustling with activity. Several large ships had just arrived in port: passenger ships, cargo vessels, and The Star of the Orient, Captain Amos McTavish's clipper ship.

Boy, he could daydream for hours about that ship! Where did it come from? Where was it going? What treasures did its cargo hold? Every time it returned from sea, his imagination ran wild.

Grateful for anything that would keep a ten-year-old amused, his Ma would often let him sit by the docks and watch, while she went about her errands. Once, she'd even asked Captain McTavish if he could take a peek onboard.

The Captain had taken a liking to him right off - maybe it was because he'd told the Captain how he'd been born on a ship... Anyway, it didn't take long until Amos looked forward to his visits almost as much as he did, even going so far as to treat him to a celebratory sweet whenever The Star returned safely to port.

How much like Brian he was then, Sully thought sadly, still at the age when candy could fix anything. But, by the end of that day, candy never mattered again. "Candy's candy," he'd quipped to Brian on their first trip to Boston, his cynicism showing more than it should have.

If, little by little, his childhood had been snatched, first by his father's death and then by his brother's, Sully's innocence would officially end that day.

"When's yer Ma due back, Son?" he recalled the Captain asking.

"She said by one." Even after all these years, Sully remembered it as if it were yesterday, especially the faraway look in his Ma's eyes as she brushed a lock of hair from his forehead and gave him that last kiss goodbye.

"It's after three now." Amos had a big gold pocketwatch he consulted with regularity. Wouldn't do for a ship's captain to be a minute late.

Amos scanned the wharf. The sun faded fast in the fall and it'd be dark in less than an hour. The pier would be no place for a child.

"Let's get you that treat, shall we, and maybe we'll meet yer Ma along the way?" Amos had a full beard that hid his expressions well, but even beneath the smile he'd given him, Sully remembered thinking he was worried.

But, one large candied apple later, his face rimmed faintly with sticky red sugar, he'd forgotten the Captain's worried look. Far more interesting were Amos' stories of the high seas and the commotion he'd caught sight of down by the river. "Somethin's goin' on over there, Cap'n!"

"We'll go see, then…" Amos chuckled at his boundless energy.

Curious, he waded into the crowd, with Amos close behind. He could feel Amos' hand, protective on his shoulder.

But, like all rambunctious young boys, he slipped from Amos' grasp and threaded between the adults to race headlong toward the excitement.

He recognized her green dress straight off. Confused at first, he wondered why his Ma had decided to go swimming on such a cold day. Then, he noticed she wasn't moving - her head, faced down, in the Hudson River. Quickly the dockworkers pulled her body to shore and tried in vain to revive her. Desperately, he raced to her, fighting off several kindhearted women who attempted to shield him with their skirts.

"Ma! It's me, Byron! Talk t'me, Ma! Wake up!" Sully's throat tightened recalling how he shouted and tugged at her dress.

It was then that Amos lifted him up into his arms, kicking and screaming. "Lemme go! She needs me! Lemme go!" The vividness of that day never left him.

Already, there were murmurings in the crowd, "Poor Widow Sully's gone and drowned herself…"

His head was spinning and his stomach churned. "She's dead, Son," Amos spoke gently into his ear. "You don't wanna remember her like this…"

Stubbornly, he squirmed out of the captain's arms and dropped to the ground, rushing back to take one last look at his mother. She bore little resemblance to the woman he had bid goodbye to earlier in the day.

Stoically, he knelt beside her body to give her one last kiss. And when he turned, there, on her face, was a tiny bit of red, a sticky speck of his candy-appled kiss left on her cold, wet, cheek…a little part of him, still with her.

"There's nothing you can do…" Amos repeated it over and over again.

Sully could still hear him now.

"Sophie…" Anguished, Sully fell to his knees and brushed her cheek.

"Sully, did you hear me?" Concerned, Michaela dropped down beside him. "I said, there's nothing you can do…"

Michaela looked at her husband and saw the bright, inquisitive little boy who'd learned to read when he was barely five…the good-natured mischief-maker who had his father's sparkling blue eyes and his mother's love of poetry. Those qualities she adored in him had been buried beneath a lifetime of suffering, until her love gifted him with the home and the family he'd lost, not once, but twice. Still, Michaela knew she could never erase the horror he'd experienced on that fateful November day.

"Sophie…" Pleading, Sully spoke her name.

"Maybe we should go now, Sully," Michaela urged, gently placing her hand on his shoulder.

"No!" Tortured, Sully pulled away from her grasp.

"You ain't supposed t'be here, Michaela," he accused harshly.

Michaela saw the pain in her husband's eyes and felt it as strongly as if it were her own. "You're hurting," she noted sadly. "Where else would I be?"

Sully's tone softened at her reply. "I know ya love me, Michaela, but this is somethin' I gotta do by myself."

"But, Sully…" Michaela's challenge was stopped by Sully's index finger upon her lips.

"Go…please?" He shook his head. "Sophie and I need t'be alone."

Michaela sighed deeply. Sully would do this in his own way. Lovingly, she cupped his cheek in her palm.

"Good luck…" she kissed him tenderly.

Michaela's love had seen him through so many dark moments. Sully would forever be grateful.

In spite of his grief, the corners of Sully's mouth turned up slightly, a much happier memory filling his thoughts.

"You're my luck."

[ Next Thread | Previous Thread | Next Message | Previous Message ]

Replies:

Post a message:
This forum requires an account to post.
[ Create Account ]
[ Login ]
[ Contact Forum Admin ]

Forum timezone: GMT-8
VF Version: 3.00b, ConfDB:
Before posting please read our privacy policy.
VoyForums(tm) is a Free Service from Voyager Info-Systems.
Copyright © 1998-2019 Voyager Info-Systems. All Rights Reserved.