As he turned his chair around and made his way down the pathway, she fought the urge to run after him.
A few moments later, the two loaded into a van and drove off.
With shaky hands, she unlocked the door, then stooped down to grab the picture and manila folder.
Slowly, she stood, unable to take her gaze off the photo. Yes, it definitely was Jordan-there could be no doubt about it.
Tracing her finger along the outline of his jaw, she tried to think of what could be gained by believing the stranger. What had he called himself? Joe Smith. What did he want from her to come to her house and show her this? To hurt her? Why in the world would anyone do that?
Finally, she shut the front door and turned the lock. Taking a deep breath, she returned to the living room and sat down. After staring at the picture for a few more moments, she set it next to her and began reading the documents in the file folder.
Ten minutes later, she had read it three times. She held the papers with clammy hands while her heart slammed in her chest. After placing the documents on top of the picture, she pulled a blanket off the back of the couch and around her shoulders, then took a long sip of her wine.
The five pages seemed so fantastical, so incredible, she found it difficult to believe. But, what if it were true? What if Jordan truly did live and didn't remember her?
The thought of the government he served doing something so horrible seemed outlandish; yet, here laid a picture of Jordan with the time stamp of yesterday.
Standing, she walked into the kitchen and grabbed her cell phone, then returned to the living room. With shaky hands, she poured herself more wine.
She needed to think in facts and not let her emotions get the best of her.
Her husband and his full platoon had been killed in the Guatemalan jungle while fighting the war on drugs. She'd been to every funeral. Now, a man showed up at her front door, claiming her husband is not dead, but alive, and somehow, he's had his whole memory erased-and the government was responsible.
It didn't make any sense, and it couldn't possibly be true. This was the United States. Other governments may participate in such awful behavior, but not hers.
But what if it were true? What if Jordan was out there with his heart beating, his blood moving through his veins? What if he had been found alive?
She fought to tamp down the flare of hope in her chest. This had to be some sick, practical joke. No other explanation could be found.
But, what if it wasn't?
Sighing, she picked up her phone and dialed Joe's number. She had to hear what the man had to say.
He answered on the third ring. "Yes?"
Shutting her eyes, she pinched the bridge of her nose. She wouldn't meet him in her home because that would just be stupid. However, she could meet him in public.
"It's Ava Callahan."
"Mrs. Callahan. I'm so glad you've reached out to me."
"I want to meet with you."
"Excellent. What time should I be over at your home?"
Standing, she began to pace and noted that Grunt watched her every move with perked ears, as if he tried to understand what she said.
"I would prefer to meet in a public place."
"Hmm."
A short stretch of silence ensued, and she began to wonder if he'd disconnected the call.
"I'm not comfortable discussing your husband in public, Mrs. Callahan, but I think we can reach a compromise."
"What's that?"
There's a restaurant down on Fifth Street called Jeremy's."
"I know it."
"They have a wonderful lunch menu with the gorgonzola steak salad being my favorite. Why don't we meet there?"
Jeremy's happened to be a five-star steak house, and very popular. She didn't understand how they'd even get in, let alone find a quiet booth.
"The owner owes me a favor," Joe said, as if he read her thoughts. "We can meet in one of their private dining rooms. That way, you are in the public area you desire, yet, we will have the privacy needed for this conversation."
She considered the proposal, and couldn't find any fault with it. It did meet both their needs.
"What time?"
"Will one work for you?"
Sitting back down on the couch, she stared at the picture of Jordan again, feeling as if she were about to jump down the proverbial rabbit hole. "Yes."
"I'll see you then, Mrs. Callahan."
"Ava."
"Very well, Ava. I'll see you tomorrow."
3
Ava arrived at the restaurant ten minutes early. She hated being late. It had always been something that drove her crazy with Jordan-the man always seemed to run ten minutes behind everyone else-and this habit had led to some big fights between them. About a year after they had been married, she began to tell him they needed to arrive at a later time than actually necessary. At that point, they started being punctual, and the arguments stopped. Now, as she stared at the door leading into the restaurant, the urge to run almost overran the need to hear what Joe had to say. She just wished Jordan would appear before her … late or not.
Funny how trivial the stupid fights seemed now, but how serious they'd been then.
Taking a deep breath, she opened the large, wooden door. As her eyes adjusted, she smiled at the hostess. The din of people enjoying their lunch met her ears, and as she glanced around, she didn't see an empty table, just as she'd predicted.
"May I help you?"
She turned back to the grinning hostess. "Yes. I'm here to meet Joe Smith."
The woman nodded once. "Right this way."
Ava followed her through the lunch crowd dining off white plates and tables covered in white tablecloths, her nerves turning into a bevy of butterflies in her stomach. As she glanced around, she couldn't help but notice the dark, wood-paneled walls that made her think of décor from the sixties and seventies, but somehow worked well in this atmosphere, offering an almost sophisticated look of a throwback nature.
As they approached the large panel door directly off the dining room, she took a deep breath and tried to put a smile on her face. She'd worn a skirt, blouse, and heels, but she couldn't help but feel she looked like a hot mess as sleep had eluded her for most of the night.
After the hostess knocked, she heard his voice.
"Come in."
The girl smiled and opened the door.
Stepping into the room, Ava took in her surroundings. The wall to the right had been mirrored from top to bottom; the wall to the left had the same dark paneling as the restaurant. A long table sat in the middle surrounded by twelve chairs. As the door shut behind her, she realized the room was perfect-close to the general public, yet, it provided privacy.
Joe had wheeled his chair up to the dark, oak table. He looked over at her and grinned, waving her over.
She sat in the chair across from him, taking in his smart, blue eyes, short, dark hair, and handsome face. A manila folder sat to his left. She kept her purse on her lap, her hand casually wrapped around her gun.
"You look tired, Ava."
"I had a lot to think about."
Joe clasped his hands on the table in front of him. "Yes, you did. I would hope that you will accept my apology for upending your life like this, but if I put myself in your shoes, I would want to know the truth."
"I do."
"Excellent." He reached for the file and flipped it open. "Now, as I told you, Jordan is alive. We last saw him in San Francisco."
"What was he doing there?"
She caught a flash of anger in his eyes, but it disappeared so quickly, she couldn't be sure she saw anything there in the first place.
"I'll explain all that in a moment. First, I'd like to ask you what you know about mind control."
Sitting back in her chair, she stared at Joe, wondering if the guy was crazy.
He grinned. "I know it seems like an absurd question, Ava, but please, hang in there with me for a moment or two."
That little flicker of hope that Jordan could be alive had morphed into a huge flame overnight. Right now, she'd walk over shards of glass if Joe asked her to just so she could find out the truth.
"I know there's been books and movies about it. I've seen stage hypnosis shows where it seems like the hypnotist controls people's minds. They do strange things like bark like dogs, or answer their shoe, thinking it's their phone."
"What did you think of the show?"
She shrugged. "It was funny, but I couldn't help but wonder if everyone was faking it in some way."
Except Jordan. He'd sworn he remembered nothing of what he did while on stage.
He nodded. "Well, the mind control I'm talking about is a little more extreme than having someone bark like a dog. Are you familiar with the CIA's covert operation in the 1950s called MK Ultra?"
"No."
"The government has always been interested in creating a 'super' fighter, someone who wouldn't break under torture by foreign governments if ever caught in war. They've also wanted to seek a way to control our enemy spies. If they could find a way to do both of these things, then they would definitely have the upper hand, wouldn't you agree?"
She couldn't doubt what he said, but in her opinion, they had moved into the stuff movies were made of.