Behind Door Two

Behind Door Two

Sandra McGregor

Copyright 2014 by Sandra McGregor

Smashwords Edition

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Chapter 1

Flying had always been as natural as swimming or horseback riding...until now.

What would it feel like to suddenly realize your plane was going to crash? Does your life really flash before your eyes like they say?

Cecilia Drummond shifted in the confines of her first-class seat, glancing out the tiny portal to reassure herself that the plane was still in the clouds ...and level.

Would she panic and scream as it plummeted 34,000 feet to crash in a rural field or a crowded city street? No, she was sure she wouldn't be a screamer, but just the thought made her heart rate spike as she wiped her suddenly damp palms on the cocktail napkin. Cecilia leaned slightly forward to lift heavy black hair from her damp neck, berating herself for not taking an extra couple minutes to twist it up into a clip before closing her condo door for the last time.

She sighed with relief to see the woman on her right was still asleep. Embarrassing displays of emotion didn't count if no one saw them. Yeah, right.

Cecilia willed herself to relax, her head resting back against the seat. With her eyes closed, she took a few slow, deep breaths, counting as she exhaled. Her mind wouldn't rest, wouldn't stop conjuring up useless questions-questions that she could not possibly know the answer to unless she experienced the moment. Like, would she be calm and stoic? No, calm was too much to imagine. Sure, she'd panic, but behind it she was sure there would be anger. She would be pissed.

At twenty-seven she had been the newest member of the Wesley Conglomerate's public relations team and the plum job had not come easy. No one could accuse her of riding on Daddy's coattails. Her resume contained nothing that would associate her with Drummond International. It had been a short ride with Wesley, but God, what a trip. Now, another door was standing before her, and she was going to walk through that door with no regrets. Well, not too many regrets, at any rate. Besides, there was no other choice.

She shifted slightly in the seat, stretching out her legs and flexing her toes to relieve a cramp in her calf. It was ironic that sometimes a person was allowed to volunteer for one or more of the burdens that life tossed out, but other times it was thrust on you whether or not you were ready, or even wanted it.

Grandpa Drummond had always said that experience in life was what counted and she should go after each experience with gusto. If she only had a dollar for every time he had repeated those words while stabbing his arthritic, swollen finger in the air near her face she could make a huge dent in the national debt.

Mark my words, Ceci, if you listen up and learn from my mistakes, you will save yourself a lot of time and disappointment.

A smile softened the muscles around her mouth as she allowed warm memories to flood her weary soul. Drummond International. Just thinking about the company comforted her and wrapped her in a soft, fuzzy blanket of warmth and security.

The Works, as her Dad had always called it, was familiar and stood sentinel, as a solid reminder of her father and her grandfather, her legacy. She was sure her father had dreamed of having a son to pass the reinss to, but fate had not seen fit to grant that most fervent desire. He had never told her he was disappointed, but as she grew and matured, she had known it in her heart. Tears flooded her emerald eyes as images of happier days danced behind her eyelids.

As far back as she could remember, she had begged her father to let her go to work with him. She would sit in the huge leather chair behind a glass-topped desk that was as big as a ship and pretend the secretary was bringing her some afternoon tea. In her fantasies everyone loved her and there was nothing to do except smile, have luncheons, and make gobs and gobs of money that she could spend to get all the pretty clothes she wanted. And a horse. She had always wanted a horse of her own. She was going to name it Buddy.

Even as a little girl she had loved her Daddy's office. She allowed a sad smile to move her lips slightly, but her heart remained heavy with loss.

She allowed her mind to wander into her father's office. There were good memories there. Paneled in mahogany, the afternoon sun that streamed through the huge two-story arched window cast a red glow across the papers on his desk and the wall of built-in bookshelves. The books were thick and heavy, not fun to read, no pictures, but she had known even then that someday she would work in his office and sit in the big chair. It was a part of her inner self, her very soul. It had driven her in school to be top in her class and the last to get an invitation to the Senior Prom. But the Prom really didn't matter.

That was just one dance in the entirety of life and after your time was up on this earth, memories would be the last dance. It was amazing what a mind could conjure up when you allowed it to wander unrestrained.

Thank goodness her sister was meeting her at the airport. She wasn't sure how much more she could take in one day. Had it only been two weeks? It seemed an eternity since the night she had been jarred from a deep sleep to have her world turned upside down. The doorbell ringing in the middle of the night had been the beginning of a nightmare that still jolted her awake in the middle of the night to sit in the middle of her bed in a cold sweat. Would it ever end?

She remembered back to the night as if it were yesterday, the night that the noise had shot through her brain like a bullet, ripping her from a now-forgotten dream to jack-knife upright in bed.

***

The outside security lights in the townhouse complex cast a misty glow through the drapes as she strained to focus her sleep-numbed mind to hear a noise, any noise that would help her identify what had jolted her from a deep slumber. The only sound that disturbed the eerie silence now was the soft ticking of her alarm clock.

As the front-door chimes reverberated off the walls, Cecilia flinched. Her hand jerked up to cover her heart for a moment before she tossed back the sheet and stood. If those damn kids were playing games again she would tie them to stakes in the desert and turn the ants loose. Of course, she'd have to catch them first. She smiled to think that she'd first have to catch the kids ...and the ants.

She grabbed for the robe she always left on the foot of the bed as she shoved her feet into leopard slippers. Without wasting a second, she was on her way out the bedroom door and down the hall at a run. Twice before they had pushed the doorbell, but she had been too late to see their faces, just their lanky jean-clad rears scooting around the end of the complex.

Damn kids. Little hoodlums should be home in bed, dreaming about being cowboys or something.

At the marble entry, Ceci tiptoed through the dark, clenching the bathrobe belt around her waist before leaning forward to look through the security peephole.

Police? She flipped on the porch light before bracing her hands against the door to look again. Cecilia's next sight through the peephole was a bright reflection off the gold badge that rested against the navy blue uniform. Was it real? He looked a little old to be engaging in pranks.

Gut-wrenching fear took a high-speed trip from her brain down to her bowels. Her hands slid limp to her sides as she noted the time as 1:04 A.M. on the alarm control pad. With more dread than she could ever remember feeling, she pushed the intercom button.

Yes?

Miss Cecilia Drummond?

Yes.

I'm Lance Brodin, Chicago P.D. I need to speak with you for a few minutes.

One slim finger parted the drapes to get a closer look at the officer, noting the patrol car at the curb.

Just a moment, please.

Numb fingers entered the code to disarm the alarm before turning the deadbolt. The door swung inward as she folded the collar of the bathrobe tighter across her chest, holding it in place. Even though fear had taken over her body, her mind still registered the thick, straight blond hair, thick eyebrows hovering over deep-set eyes and a general feeling of big. He belonged on a beach...surfing.

Her mind felt detached, seeking distance and a place to hide from the scary thing that had materialized out of the dark. Nothing good came from phones ringing or police at the door in the wee hours of the morning. If she didn't think about why he might be here, would it make him disappear?

May I come in?

Like water running up against the dam on a river, her reply stopped at the lump in her throat. A simple nod was all the answer he got as she stepped back to allow him to pass.

Once inside, she watched him stand with his hat in his hands, taking a couple seconds to survey the entry and the shadowed livingroom before turning to face her. This could not be good news...he was not smiling. No, he looked uncomfortable. He twisted the hat around in his large hands, his body language screaming that he didn't like what he'd come to say. He would probably rather be in a shoot out with criminals or maybe a fight trading punches with some big bruiser like himself. He stood erect, his eyes alert. Her heart was breaking as the seconds ticked by.

Say something, damn it! Surely there was something she should be doing or saying at a time like this, but right now she just couldn't make her body respond.

Her mother would have offered coffee. As stupid as that might have sounded at one o'clock in the morning, Cecilia would have used that or any other excuse to delay the inevitable, if only she could have gotten her voice to work. Her heart pounded against her chest, thundering in her ears as her muscles tightened. Deep breaths failed to bring calm as she clinched her teeth to stop the violent shaking that wracked her body. Her eyes closed as she mentally forced herself to focus on the moment and close off her imagination. She knew this was going to be something she didn't want to hear, but whatever it was, she would handle it. Somehow.

While one hand held the bathrobe like a security blanket, Cecilia dug her fingers through the top of her thick hair, shoving it back from her forehead only to have it flop back into place as her hand lowered, fisting at her side.

I hate to wake you at this hour, but the department just got a call informing us that there was a plane crash just outside Atlanta. The jet belonged to Drummond International and your parents were on board.

His voice faded away as black spots started at the edge of her vision. Her only conscious thought was that she had been wrong. She was not going to handle this. Like a million stars, the spots congealed, closing to a dot of light in front of her eyes before winking out.

She did not feel her body fall, but she saw the dark crevasse and welcomed it like an old friend.

***

Would you care for a cocktail or some coffee?

Cecilia's eyes popped open to stare blankly at the flight attendant. With a self-conscious smile, she shook her head. She had consumed far too much coffee in the past several days. Her nerves felt jittery, on overload.

Her head eased back against the seat, her eyes focused on the three buttons over her head while her mind again took her to painful moments.

The hardest part had been telling her sister. To look in the mirror was to see her sister. Identical, only their personalities and nine minutes separated them. Cecilia recognized that people handled grief in different ways, but sometimes her sister could be so infuriating.

Cecilia loved her sister, of course, but Darianna was self-centered and selfish.

Like her father before her, Cecilia found peace in going to The Works. There was satisfaction in using her mind and talents to keep the company running at top performance and efficiency. Darianna, on the other hand, coped by sitting for hours staring out into the back yard or taking long strolls through their mother's gardens.

Cecilia remembered her grandmother telling her once that she could always tell her identical granddaughters apart. She said it was in the eyes. One looked at tomorrow, dreaming of a prince and the other looked at today and what needed to be done. Cecilia knew her sister's personality was a replica of their mother where she was her father's daughter.

Her father. Her body warmed as she thought about one of only two men she had ever loved. There had been her grandfather and there had been her father...her one true hero, her knight in shining armor. He had stood tall and proud with high cheekbones and the reddish skin tones inherited from his Cherokee mother, Shaswan.

The gentle smile that touched Cecilia's lips softened the stress lines in her forehead and for just a moment she relaxed the muscles that held her stomach prisoner. Only one picture of her grandmother survived the flood of '47 and Cecilia treasured it above gold.

From the tote bag on the seat beside her, she pulled her wallet out and flipped it open to the pictures. A gentle finger brushed across the black and white picture of her grandparents standing in front of their house on the lake.

Without permission, tears slipped over the edge of her lashes to slide unheeded down her cheeks. It had captured her grandmother in the morning sunshine, standing near a small wooden house, a swaddled baby sleeping in her arms. No wonder her grandfather had defied his parents and married her. Her straight shiny black hair hung to her knees in one long thick braid and her smile as she looked up into the eyes of her husband outshone the sun.

That was how she would always remember her grandparents. That was what Cecilia wanted for herself. She wanted the love story. She wanted to have her career and children, but most of all she wanted a man who would love her like her grandfather had loved her grandmother. She wanted the fairy tale, even though she knew fairy tales were for children.

Her eyes shifted to a snapshot of her father taken only two years earlier. He had put up quite a fuss about 'wasting' the time to go to the portrait studio, but in the end she had asked him to do it for her and he had smiled that special smile that reached his eyes.

I never could refuse you anything you had your heart set on, could I? Now she had only to look at the picture to relive the feeling she got when he looked at her with such love in his heart.

Oh Daddy, I miss you so much, she whispered. I'm trying so hard to fill your shoes, but you were a big man. I need you to help me. With her teeth clamped over her bottom lip, Cecilia forced her jaw to stop quivering. She whispered one of her father's favorite sayings through bloodless lips.

Buck up, soldier. It's time to fight a good fight, not cry for the dead or dieing.

With a deep breath, Cecilia wiped her cheeks and cleared her throat.

The rest of the flight slipped by while she dozed, secure in her decision to be strong and face whatever life threw at her.

After a pilot-in-training touchdown, Cecilia tucked her Gucci purse into the matching carry-on bag, squared her shoulders and made her way up the gangway after murmuring a quick word of thanks to the flight attendant.

All she could think about was an hour of soaking in the over-sized tub and five or six hours of uninterrupted sleep. Maybe she would fill the prescription for sleeping pills that the family physician and friend had pressed into her hand just before she left for Atlanta. It had been difficult to go back to where her parents had died, but business demanded that she take care of paperwork and meet with the company's Atlanta managers. It was necessary for business, but also for her peace of mind. She had needed to stand in the crash-scarred field and close the book on her parent's final chapter.

Cecilia strode up the covered ramp between the plane and the terminal. She looked regal, but her confident stride came to an abrupt halt when she encountered the wall of people blocking her exit. Her eyes swept the crowd, looking for her sister. Although she ignored those around her, the oversized dark glasses, her longish raven hair and the suit she had picked up on her last trip through Paris failed to disguise her looks or discourage admiring stares.

Excuse me...excuse me. Cecilia waded through the throng of passengers lining up to board, and then lengthened her stride once she had more room to move. She was hardly aware of the heads that turned to follow her progress...the men with admiration and the women with envy. She knew they wouldn't notice any of the slight imperfections, they only saw the total picture and most of them would subconsciously form an opinion. Confident or conceited. Either way, their opinions didn't change a thing.

Ceci! Her sister waved a hand above the crowd as she pushed her way through the sea of bodies to wait at the bottom of the concourse.

I'm so glad you're back. Darianna's kiss landed in the air near her sister's cheek, but the hug was real. Both held on a few moments longer than normal, but neither minded.

I've been absolutely lost at The Works. I think they're talking about me behind my back. Laughing. Ce, I have never been comfortable there, you know that. Taking her sister's arm, they walked along side-by-side with the flow of bodies that reminded Cecilia of ocean waves rushing toward the shore.

It's loud and dirty.

Cecilia glanced at her whining sister. Darianna wore a cream suit over a pink lace blouse. If this was how she dressed when she went to the office it was no small wonder they had not taken her seriously. She looked like an iced cookie at afternoon tea. Cecilia didn't stop the smile from turning up the corners of her lips.

It's not dirty in the office, Cecilia corrected. It's not even dirty in the warehouse, just...dusty.

Dusty. When they're cutting all that wood into all those different lengths, it's deafening and it's dirty. That fine powered wood stuff gets in my hair and my mouth. It's dreadful. I don't like it at all. I don't belong there, she retorted waving her free hand in dismissal.

Darianna leaned closer and tucked her sister's arm up next to her side. Can you believe they're really gone?

The words pricked Cecilia's heart. She was so tired of hearing people tell her that time would heal the hurt and ease the pain. If she lived to be a hundred that wouldn't be enough time to forget the loss of her parents, her anchors.

No, I keep expecting to hear one of their voices every time I pick up the phone. Cecilia's chest ached with the effort to not cry. Every time...

Flash!

Excuse me. I'm Samantha Gridley from the Chicago Tribune and I would like to ask you a few questions.

Another reporter. Didn't they ever quit? Cecilia wished she and her sister could just fade into the woodwork for a little while. She had been avoiding the paparazzi as often as possible while in Atlanta, moving into a hotel because they had found the company townhouse and then having to sneak through the back garden using a disguise and a rented car when they found the hotel. Today she was not to be so lucky.

Dari still lived at her parent's estate, so she had been able to hide quite effectively behind the ten-foot, stone wall that surrounded the meticulously manicured lawn and gardens. Stanley had been driving for her family for over fifteen years and knew how to handle the crowd of photographers and journalists whenever Darianna wanted to go out.

After the first report of the corporate jet crash, Cecilia's condominium had been besieged to the point that she had also returned home, hiring private security in order to maintain some privacy.

Without a corporate jet, she had not thought twice about using commercial airlines, but she wouldn't make that mistake again. She would have to get another jet ordered right away and in the mean time she would charter.

Flash. Flash.

Do you mind giving us some consideration? I have just flown in from Atlanta and I'm very tired. Flash.

With the sunglasses still in place, the reporter couldn't see Cecilia's eyes narrow, but only someone who knew her well would have known how close she was to losing her temper.

I only have a few questions. Like a puppy, the young woman bounced along beside them, trying to keep up with the increased strides the women took in their hurry to avoid this nuisance.

Cecilia stopped in the middle of the crowd, planted her feet, forcing people to filter around them, and turned to the journalist. Her mind registered the mumbled comments and frowns, but she didn't allow the distraction to break her concentration on the problem at hand.

Her eyes locked with those of the reporter as she put a protective arm around her sister's waist. She could feel Dari trembling and she just wanted to get this over with as quickly and as efficiently as possible.

I'll give you one last chance, Cecilia whispered, leaning up against the startled reporter, putting her face within breathing distance of the woman. The reporter's expression went from surprise to delight in two seconds.

I wouldn't smile if I were you. You are not getting an interview now. If you leave us in peace right this minute, we will give you an exclusive interview in two weeks. If not, I will call your editor and tell him your decision. Do I make myself clear?

She had to give the girl credit. It took less than a second for her to whip out her card.

Call me.

Thank you.

No, Miss Drummond, thank you. These words were spoken to their backs as Cecilia jerked her sister by the arm toward a door marked Airport Security.

Cecilia glanced at her unusually silent sister while stuffing the business card in the pocket of her tote bag,

Are you all right?

The tear-filled doe eyes that turned toward Cecilia gripped her heart. I'm so glad you were with me. I...I don't know what I would have done.

Cecilia lifted a finger to wipe away the single tear that had slipped over the edge.

Ce, I used to think it was fun. You know, all the attention and my picture in the paper, but now I just want to be left alone. More tears threatened to flow as Darianna's fingers gripped her sister's arms pleading with her to understand.

Cecilia leaned in to hug her trembling sister, sharing a quiet moment to hopefully lend some strength. When they parted, Cecilia pulled open the door and stepped inside the small office.

May I help you ladies?

Their attention was drawn to the middle-aged man sitting behind a desk. Cecilia was glad that her security didn't totally depend on this man being able to move his considerable bulk from behind the desk where he had the newspaper laying open to the sports page.

Yes. We would like an escorted exit through a side door. Producing her identification and her first-class ticket, she smiled.

It took only a few moments for him to look over the two women, taking in their expensive clothes and jewelry before his brain clicked and he obviously connected the identical twins with the recent headlines.

Yes, certainly. Come this way.

With more agility than she would have thought possible for a man with a stomach that hung that far over his belt, he came around the desk, punched four numbers into a control pad, and ushered them through another door.

Cecilia supported the extra weight as Darianna leaned against her. Under different circumstances she thought she might have seen some humor in Dari and herself being escorted through the back rooms of an airport just to