CHAPTER 23

Some time later, Monica walked slowly into the kitchen for the second time that day, feeling relief at seeing a pot of coffee on the burner. Her body felt on the verge of collapse while her adrenaline fueled fear seemed to be keeping her in a constant state of alert and she wondered when the next time would be that sleep finally came.

“Feeling any better?” Paul asked, having heard her come downstairs from his study and immediately coming out to meet her. The vivid exhaustion on her face went right to his heart and he noticed the way her hand shook has she attempted to pour herself a cup of coffee, which at this point, he was certain would only make her jittery combined with her lack of sleep.

Coming up behind her, he carefully took the coffee pot and mug from her and set them down on the counter before turning her around to face him, “Sit,” He ordered gently, “I’ll get it.”

“Thank you,” She looked up at him gratefully, before moving to the table and sinking into a chair as Paul poured them each a cup of coffee and set them down on the table before placing the milk and sugar before her as well, “Where is Andrew?”

“He went down to question the florist about who requested the flower delivery. He should be back shortly,” He replied to her as he poured some milk into his own mug after she had finished.

Monica hastily lowered her eyes, not wanting Paul to pick up on the vast array of emotions that flooded them at his words. The guilt she felt over snapping at him this morning was overwhelming. He had been so wonderful through this entire thing and he had only been trying to calm her earlier as her emotions had raged out of her control. He had sacrificed nights to sit with her so she could sleep and had taken her to the lake this morning and in turn, she had lashed out and right now it felt as if she had chased him away and that left her feeling more than frightened. There was no way she could continue on this road without him by her side, of that much she was certain and she felt her heart crying out to him to please come back.

“Monica?” Paul frowned as he watched her look dazedly back up at him.

“I’m sorry I lost my temper this morning. I don’t know what came over me…” She stammered weakly, wrapping her chilled fingers around the warm mug.

“You’re exhausted, and McArthur is toying with your emotions, Monica. I know exactly what came over you and it was perfectly normal.”

“Not for me, it wasn’t,” The angel whispered, trying to reign in her feelings once more, knowing that there was another question she needed to ask, “Paul, in your professional opinion, what do you think is going to happen next?”

He fell silent for a moment, knowing at this point, she deserved the truth, but than again, she always had, “He’s picking up his pace, sweetheart,” He told her softly as his eyes held her gaze, “And we need to be prepared for anything right now,” He watched as her eyes clouded over then cleared as she forced back the tears and he reached for her hand and held it tightly in his own, “He isn’t going to win, Monica.”

“It feels like he already has,” She uttered, knowing that Paul had no idea of the changes that she had felt come over herself and she struggled for a way to elaborate, “Paul, do you believe in God?”

Her question took him by surprise as he pondered it for a moment before answering, “I suppose that I do. I’d like to believe that there is something more after this life.”

She nodded her head, not even concerned at the moment that he was still holding onto her hand, “I’ve always believed that God made all people basically good at heart. Sometimes they lose their way or get sidetracked, but they are still made in His image and therefore good by nature,” She squeezed his hand, the need to be holding onto someone still present, “This man defies everything I’ve ever believed and I feel betrayed by that knowledge.”

“But isn’t it possible, Monica, that some people lose their way so extremely that they never find their way back?” He questioned, wanting to instill her confidence in people once more, despite the fact that he wasn’t sure he believed in her theory. He truthfully didn’t think men like McArthur had a decent bone in their body and the more he saw of men like him, the more he wondered if evil wasn’t an easier achievement for many people.

She shrugged her shoulders and sighed, “Maybe, but to say that implies that they have no desire to return to goodness and I’m not sure I can exist with that reality,” Hastily, she wiped at a tear that had fallen onto her cheek before she released his hand and rose to her feet, “I’m going to go and take a shower. Excuse me.”

Paul sadly watched her leave the kitchen clearly able to feel the heaviness of her heart that still lingered in the room.

*****

The long empty road stretched out in front of him, and Andrew was wondering why he had ever volunteered to go to the florist’s. Even if she had pulled away from him, he knew her well enough to know that it had just been the shock of the situation and that she was probably tearing herself up with regret at that very moment. He stepped on the gas and tightened his hands on the wheel.

The trip had largely been a waste of time, as McArthur had phoned the order in, and even after tracing the number back he had only turned up a pay phone in a busy part of the town. Now he just wanted to get back to the house as quickly as possible before McArthur tried anything else. He had begun to abandon the hope that this would have a peaceful resolution and instead he was trying to brace himself for all of the possibilities.

Mainly he was trying to get his own anger in check so that he would be able to act from his head and not his conflicted heart. He knew what God expected of him. He expected His angels to act with His words as their guide, words that had mercy and love and forgiveness as their very basis, but Andrew was struggling with his current inability to find it within his heart to forgive the man who had perpetrated such evil acts.

“Please come back.” The words whispered to his heart were filled with such fear and remorse that they struck like a physical blow.

“I’m coming,” he said aloud, hoping that the words would be enough to hold her until he could.

The rest of the drive passed by in a blur and he couldn’t think about his fears any more, or even spare another thought for what could happen in the future. He was too caught up in the present moment and the fact that his dearest friend needed him and he was miles away from her. The additional security around the house was yet another hindrance to him and he had to make an effort to remain patient with the new officers who weren’t as familiar with him and insisted upon looking at all of his identification.

When he at last opened the front door he was surprised by the silence. His own heart was in such a turmoil that somehow it only seemed right for that same commotion to exist in the physical world. His shoes sounded impossibly loud on the wooden floor and he wasn’t at all surprised when the noise brought Paul out from his traditional spot in the kitchen.

“Anything?” the agent asked, knowing the answer just by the look on Andrew’s face.

“No, but I guess we both knew he’d be too smart to leave a forwarding address,” he said with a touch of sarcasm.

“Yeah, but you always hope that the guy’ll screw up somewhere,” Paul’s shoulders slumped a bit and his chest rose and fell on a sigh.

Andrew glanced at the stairs. “She’s upstairs?” he asked, knowing that she was, but unable to simply rush to her side without some explanation to Paul.

“She headed up there about twenty minutes ago. I was just about to check in on her.”

The angel lowered his eyes, not to hide the jealousy, which had nearly faded to the background, but the mask the sadness that he felt for Monica. She had already felt like a butterfly under glass, and now she couldn’t even be by herself for more than a few minutes without a babysitter. As much as he did not want to encounter McArthur, a small part of his heart hoped that the man would try something, just to get it over with. It suddenly seemed as though nothing could possibly be worse than the suspense.

Knowing he couldn’t interfere with Paul going up to check on her, the angel offered up a silent prayer and a moment later the back door opened and Nathan stepped inside.

“Paul, can you come and take a look at something? We think we discovered how your killer got in here last night,” Nathan’s expression was grim as he tentatively waited with the door open.

Paul sighed and looked at his partner, “Will you check on Monica then, while I take care of this?”

“Of course,” Andrew replied, anxious to get up the stairs but forcing himself to wait until Paul and Nathan had exited the house before taking the steps two at a time. He knocked on her door softly before opening it and watched as she turned around from where she was looking out the window, her grief stricken face tearing at his heart.

“I’m sorry,” Monica whispered, tears just below the surface in her dark eyes, “Andrew, I’m so sorry…”

In the two steps it took for him to close the distance between them, she had wrapped her arms around him tightly, burying her face against his chest, “Shhh, angel. You have nothing to apologize for,” He told her gently, his hand resting against the back of her head.

“You’ve been so good to me and have been here for me and I had no right to snap at you like that,” She uttered regretfully as she clung tightly to him, “When Paul told me you had left, I felt as if I had chased you away…”

“Never going to happen, Angel Girl,” He reassured her, “It would take much more than a few angry words to get rid of me, so I’m afraid you’re just going to be stuck with my presence for all eternity.”

Despite everything, she raised her head and managed a smile as she looked up into his eyes, “That’s the best news I’ve heard all day, Andrew.”

Grinning back at her, he winked, “Glad I could oblige then,” Seeing the utter exhaustion in her face, his expression turned to one of concern, “Why don’t you try to get a little sleep, Monica? You look ready to drop…”

But his request was met with a shake of her auburn head, “No. If he’s coming back, I want to be prepared and not asleep.”

“And you think that staying awake indefinitely is going to make you prepared to deal with this?” He questioned her as gently as he could, “Honey, he’s wearing you down and he isn’t going to try anything here in the daylight.”

“But Andrew, you can’t stay with me during the day.”

Her words hit him hard and even harder was the realization that she was right. The little angel was too frightened to be without him and completely unwilling to allow herself to try to sleep alone as it made her feel even more vulnerable than she already did.

“Come with me,” He took her hand and led her down the stairs and to the living room. Turning to face her, he laid his hands on her shoulders and gently pushed her down onto the couch, “Lie down, angel. I won’t leave the room. I promise.” Knowing she was too tired to argue, he laid the pillows down so she could rest her head on them and covered her with the afghan that was on the back of the sofa.

Her tired eyes met with his as she smiled sleepily, “Thank you,” She whispered, her eyelids already beginning to droop.

“You’re welcome,” He smiled, sitting on the edge of the sofa for a moment as Paul was still out of the house. Softly, he brushed his fingers along her cheek, relieved when her eyes closed and her pensive expression relaxed somewhat.

Nestling down under the afghan, she began to drift off, her best friend’s calming touch soothing her weary soul as she murmured from the brink of sleep, “I love you…”

Leaning down, he kissed her temple lovingly as he heard her even breathing, wondering if she could even begin to fathom right now just how deeply those words were reciprocated.

*****

Monica slept through most of the afternoon, and Paul didn’t have to ask why Andrew seemed intent upon staying with her. In fact he moved all of his files, and his laptop computer into the living room and set up shop there himself. Radios kept him in contact with the other agents on the property and there were long periods of time where the silence was broken only by the disembodied voices of the men checking in to report that all was well.

As the time wore on, Andrew kept himself busy reading, but he frequently found himself reading the same sentence over and over again before giving up to stare off into nothing, his mind too occupied to really concentrate. It was during one of those idle times that he caught a glimpse of Paul’s face and was struck by his expression. The agent was staring at the Irish angel, his eyes filled with tears and his face set in a mask of sorrow that spoke of much more than the current situation.

He looked up sharply, sensing his partner’s eyes on him and quickly blinked away the shine in his eyes. “I guess this is getting to all of us,” he tried to explain, but Andrew could tell that there was more to it than that.

Several times over the course of their brief partnership, Paul had made off-hand and very brief references to something that had happened in the past. Now, with tension already filling the air around them, Andrew was suddenly getting the strong feeling that it was time to find out what was behind them.

He held Paul’s gaze as he spoke. “Yeah, I think that’s pretty understandable,” he paused and nodded towards Monica’s sleeping form, “but just now it looked like you were seeing someone other than Monica.”

Paul was leaning forward, forearms resting on his knees, and now his head fell forward and he stared at his clasped hands. “Maybe,” he muttered.

A minute ticked by and neither of them moved until Paul slowly raised his head and found himself once again staring into Andrew’s eyes. Their deep concern was like nothing the agent had ever seen before, and it worked on something within his soul, untying knots and boxes of memories that had been contained for so long he had nearly forgotten how to voice them.

“Her name was Lauren,” he started speaking quietly. “It was three years ago now,” he continued, shaking his head. “God, sometimes it seems like yesterday and other times it feels like it never happened at all except in a dream.”

“She was another witness,” Andrew stated.

“Her parents were killed in an explosion set up by a sleazy small-time crime boss. She was all set to testify against him, but he had a bunch of his guys out looking for her.”

He stopped speaking, seemingly lost in the distant memories as his eyes clouded over and he turned them once more to Monica’s face. “She looked a lot like her,” he said with a sad smile. “Of course she wasn’t nearly as trusting as Monica. Oh no, she was a tough nut to crack, that one,” he chuckled at the memory even as the tears welled in his eyes.

“What happened?” Andrew asked gently, hoping that talking about it would bring some closure to the agent.

“Well, we were holed up together for a good long time… nearly three months just to start with, and the whole time I worked on getting her to let her defenses down just a little bit.”

“Did she?”

Paul looked up at Andrew, and his expression seemed to say it all. “Yeah, a little too much… and I let mine down too… next thing I knew we were talking about our future together and the two point four kids we’d have running around our grassy lawn.”

“But that never happened,” Andrew said, already knowing the answer.

“No.” Paul’s eyes closed, and when they reopened there was a frightening glint in them that Andrew had only seen one time before… right after the cat had been discovered in the barn. “Like I said, I let my defenses down too much. I was so sure we were safe… that nothing could possibly touch us… what the hell was I thinking?” His voice rose as he berated himself, his hands making angry fists over the arms of the chair he sat in.

“Paul… you don’t…” Andrew didn’t want to force the man to rehash such painful memories and he was beginning to doubt the wisdom of pushing him in the first place.

“No.. it’s alright, you might as well know. Maybe then you’ll understand why I’m so protective of her,” he said, motioning to the sleeping angel. “We were on our way to her first court appearance. Everything seemed fine… no problems… until the bullet crashed in through the windshield when we were caught in traffic a block from the courthouse.”

“I’m--”

Paul held up his hand. “Don’t say you’re sorry. I’ve heard that more times than anyone needs to in a lifetime. It wasn’t your fault… it wasn’t anyone’s fault but mine.”

“No, it wasn’t your fault either,” Andrew shook his head, his eyes filled with sorrow for this good man.

Paul didn’t even bother to argue. “She died right there in my arms,” he said, looking down at his hands, almost as though he could see her there. “I know there wasn’t any pain… it was too quick for that…” His mouth tightened into a line, and he swallowed a few times before looking up. “So there you have it… the sordid tale of my past. We caught the animal who did it an hour later, but I didn’t even care. We caught him and I testified against him myself, and then I went right back to work. I figured I’d never have another case like that again… in fact I promised myself that I wouldn’t… and now I’m dealing with another low-life who wants to do the same thing to Monica.”

Andrew knew what Paul was thinking and somewhere in the back of his mind he wondered if part of Paul’s affection for Monica was driven by the memories of his love for Lauren. He also wondered just how far Paul would go to put McArthur out of commission. Then he felt his heart grow cold as he had to wonder the same thing about himself.

All of their talking, combined with the sound of a car pulling up the driveway, served to wake Monica from her somewhat restless sleep, and she blinked up at them, taking a moment to remember where she was, and why she was there.

“Have you been here all this time?” she asked in between a yawn and a little stretch.

“Pretty much,” Paul replied, smiling and handing her an insulated mug of coffee. “This keeps it so hot I can’t even drink it after an hour in the car, so it should still be good.” He was trying his best to push the memories he had just unearthed back into their neat and tidy places, but Andrew could see the emotions that lay just below the surface.

“How about a late lunch?” the angel asked, rising to his feet and hoping that Monica would follow suit. She hadn’t eaten a thing all day, and he doubted that all the coffee she was drinking was doing her quite human stomach any favors.

She looked about to refuse, but a second look at her best friend made her relent. She knew that she needed to eat, and after the way she had behaved earlier she didn’t want to give him or Paul any trouble. She took her time carefully folding the afghan before returning it to its place on the back of the sofa. It was such a small thing to do, but making it perfect was a tiny way to feel some measure of control, and she couldn’t seem to walk away without checking it twice to make certain that it was exactly centered.

Paul gently placed an arm behind her back to keep her from turning around again, and guided her into the kitchen where Andrew was already getting things out of the cupboards. The earlier sunshine had been replaced by dark clouds and Monica looked cautiously out the window, wondering how long it would be before the storm broke. Andrew and Paul joined her a moment later, as much to drag her away and get her talking as anything else.

There was no warning, no loud noises, no shouting, only a very light popping noise as the two high velocity bullets punctured through the panes of glass, leaving perfectly round holes and a spider webbing pattern spreading out around them. In a heartbeat Paul had thrown the Irish angel to the ground, and was reaching for the radio that was clipped to his belt.

Andrew crouched on the ground, ready to cover Monica’s body with his own, or follow whatever orders Paul gave out. Only Monica herself seemed unable to move, as her eyes remained fixed on the window. The bullet holes were nowhere near where she had been standing… there was one on either side of her position, just above where Paul and Andrew’s heads had been.