A Cold, Rainy Friday Evening
Sleepyside-on-the-Hudson, New York
Trixie
Belden rushed around her home; checking, double-checking and
triple-checking that everything was in order before her husband
arrived. He had been working in Binghamton for the past week and should
be home at any moment. In fact, looking at her watch, Trixie realized
he was past due.
Just as she was inspecting the dining room
to be certain everything was in order for a romantic dinner, there was
heavy knocking at the kitchen door. Surprised that her husband, a man
known for his attention to details, might have forgotten or lost his
key, she ran to the door and pulled it open.
"Regan!" She was
surprised not to find her husband. "What tha'?" She stopped suddenly as
her long-time friend, confidant and protector-of-sorts stepped into the
house. A young New York State Trooper followed him into the kitchen.
"Ohmigod."
She slumped against the kitchen counter. As a law enforcement
professional herself, Trixie knew this had to mean bad news.
Bill
Regan rushed over to her. "No. No Trixie. He's okay. He's been in an
auto accident. He's in the hospital, but he's okay." He wrapped his
arms around her petite frame. "They think he was intentionally forced
off the road."
"Intentionally?" Trixie looked weakly at the trooper.
"We
have guards with him. We're putting more in place to protect you and
the children." The trooper responded in a serious tone.
"Guards?" Trixie practically yelled out. "Do you really think I need guards?"
The trooper looked blankly at her. They had never met. "This is precautionary, Ma'am..." He began to speak.
"Trixie's the local Chief of Police." Regan explained. "Trixie Belden."
"Sorry,
Ma'am...I mean Chief. I thought...your name." His tone changed
slightly, showing respect. Apparently he had heard of Sleepyside Police
Chief Belden, but he had been sent to assist the wife and family of an
injured man with a different surname.
Trixie didn't know how to respond. She looked at the Trooper and then at Bill Regan.
"Trix,
apparently there have been some threats made this week. The trial
hasn't been going the way the defense wants. Of course your stubborn
husband refused any protection all week and insisted on driving himself
home. He went off the side of the road just outside of Binghamton. The
police think he was forced off."
Trixie shook her head as if
to rid it of something. "I need to go to him," She began pacing the
room. "Where is he? Which hospital? Where's my coat? Oh Damn. Where are
my shoes?" She left the room with Regan following.
"Trixie."
"Dammit.
Where are my shoes?" Trixie walked into the master bedroom and began
digging around on the floor of the closet. "Dammit." She walked across
the room and stooped down to look under the bed.
"Trixie."
Regan grabbed her gently by the shoulders. "Listen to me. There's a
Trooper in the driveway. He's taking you to Binghamton. Officer Ward is
here to take the kids to my place. There will be a guard on my house
all night and...whatever."
Trixie stood and looked up at Regan. "How'd they find you?"
"Tad
was on duty when he heard the call for local troopers to notify and
protect you. He suggested they get me first. At that time, they didn't
know how bad the accident was. Coming over here we got news that the
injuries aren't as severe as they originally thought, but they are dead
serious about providing protection for all of us."
"You, too?"
"Of course...at least while the kids are with me."
"Ohmigod."
Trixie said once again as she sat down on the side of the bed. "This
can't be real. I'm the one who gets into danger... I'm the police
officer. I was the detective for all those years. This!" She looked at
Regan. "I can't do this. I can't....He's my...I can't..."
"Trix...you
CAN handle this." Regan sat down beside her and placed his arm across
her shoulders. "You know how this has to go. Mary and I'll take care of
the kids. You take care of yourself and get to Binghamton!"
Trixie
reached down and put on the shoes she had pulled out from under the
bed. She sat back up and looked at Regan, the misery in her face
overwhelming the stoic man beside her. "What if he..." She sobbed aloud
as she dropped her head into her hands.
Regan squeezed her
tightly and allowed her to cry it out. "Don't go there, Trixie. Don't
think that way." He finally said. "No matter how seriously he's
injured, he's the strongest man I know. You know that, too." Trixie
looked up at him and he wiped a tear from her cheek while attempting to
hold back his own. "You two are a team. Don't you always say that? And
he needs your half of the team right now." He stood up and offered her
his hand. "C'mon. The trooper's waiting."
"I'd rather drive." Trixie stood up and grabbed her raincoat from a hook on the closet door.
"You're
riding up with the trooper. You don't need to be trying to drive right
now and...Maybe he'll put on the lights and sirens and get you there
that much faster. You are a VIP in your own right, you know." Regan
knew that would get a smile, if only a weak one. Although Trixie denied
it, in reality she was quite proud of her title and her
accomplishments. He led her back into the kitchen.
"The kids. They're upstairs in bed," Trixie looked around. "And the house. Dinner. I don't even know if the oven's still on."
"I'll
take care of all that. I'll tell the kids their Dad was in an accident;
the car's broken but he's okay and you're going to get him. You get out
of here."
Regan held her jacket for her as she put it on. He
pointed to one of the two state police cars in the driveway. "That's
Dennis O'Connell. I think you know him. He's taking you directly to the
hospital. I'll wake up the kids and take them home with me AFTER I give
your house the once over. Okay?"
Trixie nodded.
"Now get!" He pushed her towards the back door. "And Trixie...tonight he needs a wife not another cop. Okay?"
Trixie
nodded, picked up her purse from the counter and instinctively checked
it. Realizing she was missing something she paused, then shrugged and
walked out the back door. The trooper in the car saw her coming and got
out of the car. He walked around the vehicle to hold open her door.
"Thanks Dennis." Trixie said softly as she got in. He shut the door and went back around to the driver's side.
"I'm really sorry about this, Chief." The trooper offered as he got back into the car.
"I
know, Dennis. I know." Trixie fastened her seat belt and looked up at
him. He looked very concerned and sympathetic and not at all like the
tough law enforcement officer she knew him to be. "Dennis?"
"Yeah Chief?"
"During the ride, could you forget that I'm Chief Belden and call me by my married name? I...I think I need that tonight."
Dennis
started up the loud powerful engine. He looked over at his rider. He'd
known her since the day she'd taken over as Sleepyside's Chief of
Police. He knew of her reputation as a talented investigator with the
NYPD and personally was familiar with her accomplishments in
Sleepyside. He'd always thought of her as "Chief", but tonight, a
frightened woman was looking at him. He realized that she also was a
wife and mother whose family might be in danger. He nodded agreement as
he put the car into gear and pulled off. They had a long drive ahead. Trixie
turned and stared out the rain-splattered car window into the dark
night, oblivious to the passing countryside as they drove past familiar
sites and then headed up Route 17 through the Catskills. The humming of
the tires and familiar sound of crackling exchanges on the police radio
helped to ease her anxiety. She closed her eyes and tried to set her
fears aside.
She suddenly realized what having your entire
life flash before your eyes meant. She recalled the first time she'd
seen her husband; when she was an energetic and impetuous
thirteen-year-old and he was an orphaned fifteen-year-old, frightened
and angry at the same time. She could taste their first kiss; at dawn
on the Manor House veranda. She could hear his voice the first time he
told her he loved her; over the phone, the coward. She pictured the
light reflecting in his eyes when he placed his mother's ring on her
finger and then fell to one knee; asking her to make him the happiest
man alive. She imagined his touch and shivered the way she had the
first time he touched her and the same way she did every time he had
caressed her since. She wiped her own tears as she recalled his when he
held their newborn daughter in his arms for the first time. She felt
the air vibrate the same way it had from his laughter when she told him
she was pregnant with their son. It seemed she'd known and loved her
husband forever. While never completely understanding the depth and
intensity of the love they shared, she did understand that it was as
real and as necessary for life as the air she was breathing. They had
shared so much, been through so much, but always together. Would they
get through this? Would she get through this?
She looked over
at the young trooper beside her. "You know my husband, Dennis. He's a
good man. He's known for his intellect and fairness. Darn. He's the
best there is. Why would anyone want to hurt him?"
Dennis
knew her husband well, as did almost everyone in Sleepyside; but Dennis
was one of the few people who knew that he had survived incredible
challenges and adversity to achieve his many accomplishments. "He
hasn't been dealing with just anyone. The Mafiosi don't compromise and
don't want fairness. And they definitely don't want a prosecutor as
talented as your husband. You're right. He IS the best. And he's
strong. He'll pull through this...and be all the stronger for it."
Dennis glanced over at the woman riding beside him. "I'm sure of that,
Chee.... I mean Mrs. Mangan. Absolutely sure."
Trixie smiled to herself. She knew what Dennis said was true. They would pull through this, together. DISCLAIMER:
Trixie BeldenŽ is the registered, copyrighted property of Random House
Publishing, as are most of the characters in this story. I am only
borrowing their use. This story is written only for entertainment and I
do not intend to profit financially from it in any way.
AUTHORS
NOTE: This was originally developed in the midst of what I thought at
the time was a phenomenal case of "writer's block" in my attempts to
complete "Beatrix". Boy, was I later surprised to learn what "writer's
block" REALLY can be. This was written down after a sudden flash of
inspiration. It was intended to be a bit of a teaser, leaving many
unanswered questions and the reader wondering what the heck is going to
happen. |
