R. Griffin - Seamless

“And say what?” She ran her hand through her wet hair and looked at George. “I got away and really didn’t have any evidence to support the fact that I was kidnapped.”

“Except your broken nose,” George commented.

“Except my broken nose.” She nodded. “Jack Ryder, the ATF agent that was undercover in Montana is really Jamie, my former fiancé, who ‘died.’” She shrugged her shoulders, knowing how ridiculous it all sounded.

“Wait, what?” Agent Harris eyes narrowed at her. “Why am I just now hearing about this?” He sat back on the barstool, examining her.

“See, it’s almost laughable, right? Who’d believe me?”

“Why didn’t you tell me you knew Jack, let alone were engaged to him when I showed you his picture last year?” He was flipping his pen through all the fingers on his right hand without dropping it. She could tell it was something he did when he was contemplating something; it looked practiced and he wasn’t even thinking about the motion.

“Because his identity was top secret and I was told it couldn’t be revealed. It didn’t seem like it was an issue at the time. Also, I figured if the ATF wanted you to know, they would’ve told you.” She shrugged as if it were nothing, masking her concern.

“Why did he kidnap you?”

She looked down at her hands. “I honestly don’t know; some weird attempt to get me back. He said he was laying low because his cover was blown or something, and that he bought a house for ‘us’ and he wanted to tell me everything.” Her nails were ragged; she needed to file them.

Agent Harris threw his pen down at that and looked at Stella in disbelief.

George cleared his throat, walked over to where she was leaning on the counter, and squeezed her hand. “What does she need to do for you to believe her?”

“Record him admitting to it. You think you can do that?” He laughed.

“Sure. If you can find him,” Stella said confidently.

“What makes you think you can get him to talk to you again?” Harris asked, clearly not believing for a second that she’d be able to get Jamie to admit anything to her.

Stella loved to be underestimated.

“Because he’s arrogant and he underestimates me,” she answered. Just like you do.

“So, Stella. This is all very interesting, and the fact that you’re just now getting around to telling means you’re hiding something. You know I’ll find it.” Harris narrowed his eyes at her, examining her expression for any trace of extra information.

“You know what I know,” she lied easily. Stella was surprised the lie came so effortlessly; the words dropped from her mouth without thought or remorse.

“So based on the threat and the potential testimony you’ll be giving against a federal agent, we’ll need to move you to a safe house.” Harris sighed. “This will make things a little more difficult. We’ll have to work with the Marshals.”

She started shaking her head while he was talking. “No. I’m not going anywhere. I have a job and a…” She trailed off and looked at George. She beamed at him. “And a George.”

“Well, I can’t leave a witness here without protection; you die and I’m slaughtered.”

Stella stubbornly crossed her arms over her chest.

“What do you propose?” George asked.

“Hmph.” Harris ran a hand over his hair, showing his discomfort. “First of all, I’m not sure I believe any of this, but if it were true, we could use you to lure him out.” He cocked his head at her in a question.

“I understand. Check it out with the ATF. Look at his pictures. See if they can locate him. You get me close to him and I’ll see if I can get you what you need. Just know I’m not going to any safe house. I won’t do it. Now,” Stella said, abruptly ending the meeting, “I have work to do since I took two days off for the trial. A brief on moral turpitude and some other shit that’s just hit the fan are calling my name.” She pushed herself from the counter and nodded to him as she walked upstairs. “Let me know what you decide!” she called.

George stayed with Agent Harris and showed him out, then he followed Stella up to the office. “What do you think?” he asked.

“I think I’m going to need to be very careful. I hope he can find Jamie.”

“He said the potential for another threat is enough that he can work protection on the house even if you’re refusing to go to a safe house.” George leaned against the doorframe and watched Stella sink into the office chair. “I’m really worried about this, Love.”

“I know, but we’ve got to get him on their radar somehow. If it’s by me, so be it.” She would do whatever she could to make sure Millie, George and Patrick weren’t hurt in this shit.

* * *

She started her computer and called Greg, who answered after one ring.

“How’d it go?”

“It went.” Stella took a deep breath. “I guess they detonated the bomb or something and they’re keeping my car as evidence. The insurance company already paid me when it was ‘stolen.’ Do I need to notify them about this?” She was rambling. Agent Harris had told her on the phone yesterday that if the bomb would’ve gone off there would’ve been causalities. It’d shaken her to the core.

“I’ll call and take care of it,” Greg assured her.

“Okay.” Her voice was shaky.

“Are they moving you to a safe house?”

She sighed. “No, they’re using me as bait for Jamie.”

“Stella. That’s not a reasonable thing to do,” Greg chided.

“I know, but this has to end, Greg. He threatened my family, the people I love more than anything, and he knows that. It may be me instead of them, but I’m okay with that. This will end and I am going to end it.”

“That’s big talk.”

“Could you tell it was all a bluff?” she joked.

“No, but I figured you were shaking in your boots while telling me confidently.”

“I’ve gotten pretty good at my job; it comes in handy every now and then,” she acknowledged.

“Stella, please be careful with this and keep me in the loop. Okay?” Greg’s voice softened.

“Okay,” Stella agreed. “Oh, and Greg? Thanks for everything.”

“You don’t pay me the big bucks for nothing,” he said and hung up.

She remotely linked to her firm’s server. She’d heard back from Christine and the press conference was set up for the next day; she’d be handling a statement from a Senator that was alleged to have had an affair with a minor. Fucking awesome. This was the part of her job that she actually liked, using the law to create an argument that suited her; developing something unique out of the law and making it personal enough that the judge would rule in her client’s favor. She pulled up her brief, turned her music up and started building her argument.

After a few hours of researching and writing, Stella took a few minutes to check her personal email and saw over a hundred notifications of new tweets. Reluctantly, she logged into Twitter and saw it all over her page.

#stellamurphydeaththreat

#testimonyspursdeaththreatsforfbibeauty

#norestforthewearystellamurphy

#somebodykillthatbitchalready

It’s all starting again. She inhaled sharply and emailed Greg; she wasn’t capable of going through this again. His response was immediate.

We’re handling it. I’ve put out a statement that you’re working with authorities and I emailed you a statement so that you can put on Twitter and Facebook if you wish. Stay low and let me handle rest.

She slammed one of the desk drawers closed, then made her way out of her office and down the hall. This was the last thing she wanted to be doing right now, but she’d rescheduled three times already. Fuck. She tried to slow her thinking. She waved at Brenda and made her way onto the elevator, where she tapped her red five-inch heel to the beat of the particularly horrible Backstreet Boys song that was playing. Anything to get her mind off her appointment.

She didn’t even know where to start today or what issue was most important. The more she thought about it, the more she realized how fucked up she really was at the moment. Opening the door to the psychiatrist’s office, she immediately felt unwanted tears threatening the backs of her eyes. She closed her eyes and counted until she reached thirteen and the tension faded. Then she walked up to the window and smiled her perfected fake smile. She didn’t care what George said, it was just the right mixture of lips and teeth to make people believe she was okay.

Signing her name to the pad, she said, “Hi.”

Beth, the receptionist, smiled back at her. “Hi, Stella. Go on back; Denise is ready for you.”

“Thanks.” Stella opened the door and walked back to what she’d come to think of as her room, because Denise always had Stella’s session in the same room. Stella walked over to the loveseat and pulled her shoes off before folding her legs underneath her body.

“Hey, Stella. Glad you could make it.” Denise’s smile immediately put Stella at ease as usual.

Stella found Denise oddly comforting—her face was wrinkle free and warm, a direct contradiction to her stark white hair, and she almost always had vibrantly colored glasses (today they were red) balanced on the bridge of her nose. Stella half-expected, when she began her visits, that Denise was a strange hippie shrink she could never trust, but it turned out that Denise’s no-nonsense demeanor and non-threatening appearance were the perfect fit for her.

Stella only shrugged in response. She’d put off this session for three weeks after she got home from the trial. With the bomb threat and work, she just hadn’t wanted to deal with her feelings or the lack thereof. Ever since she realized Jamie was crazier than she thought, she’d tried to stamp out any shred of fear in her body; her walls went up and she was a walking zombie with good fake smiles. Talking about everything was only going to bring it back.

Denise sat down in her chair and took a long sip of her tea. “So, how have you been doing?”

“The trial went okay.” Stella chewed her fingernail for a few seconds. “I mean, it was definitely harder than I thought it was going to be and I had nightmares and threw up before, but I did okay. He was convicted. He got 120 years.”

“Well, that must take a burden off you now that it’s done,” Denise prodded.

“Sure, one of the dozen boulders weighing me down right now is gone,” Stella agreed easily. “Eleven to go.”

Denise put down her mug and smiled. “Stella, let’s talk about these other boulders. I know this trial was weighing on you and you now have a new threat.”

Stella raised her eyebrows at Denise.

“What? I watch the news.” Denise shrugged. “Now what are the eleven other boulders?”

“Look, I need more medication for sleeping. The dreams,” Stella interrupted. She shook her head. “They’re so real and painful.”

“Okay, we can get you a new prescription for something to help you sleep better, Stella.”

“Okay.” Stella noticed she was leaning forward on the loveseat where she was sitting.

“Why are the dreams getting worse?” Denise asked.

“I don’t know.” Stella looked out the window. “I don’t know if they’re worse. They’re scary and have started to include George. I don’t know if they’re really worse or different or I’ve just been having them for so long they’re starting to wear on me.”

“That’s understandable.” Denise nodded. “How do you feel right now?”

“Anxious,” she admitted.

“Why?”

Stella laughed. “You just want one reason?”

“Yes, just one.”

“I have a big brief I’m working on and I need to be at work,” Stella snapped.

“Stella, I understand you’re busy, but you must know that your work and life overall will be better once you’ve worked out all of your...issues,” Denise said gently.

“I have no faith that my issues will ever be worked out,” Stella replied, thinking about the note on the clementines.

“Okay, so let’s start somewhere else. How are you and George doing?”

“Good,” Stella answered. They were good. “He knows me better than I know myself.”

Denise smiled warmly. “That’s a good thing to find in a mate.”

Stella grimaced at the term. “Mate?”

“Sure. You’re here because he asked you to come or he would leave. So you wouldn’t be here if he wasn’t your mate or potential mate.”