The Marshal Pt. 06

She shook herself out of her reverie. She was better today than she'd been yesterday. At least now she could think about Dad and not instantly burst into tears, but not having Rob there was offsetting any improvement. She needed to get out of the house. She needed something to distract her. Mondays and Fridays she mowed or used the tractor as she worked around the lake. Tuesdays and Thursdays, she worked in Bangor, and Wednesdays she drove into Wurth to volunteer at the small library.

She'd started volunteering at the library because as much as she enjoyed playing on the tractor, she didn't want to do it all the time. Because she had plenty of extra time, and so she'd have some interaction with people, she'd started a two-hour reading program at the library so moms in Wurth could get a break in the middle of the week. It had made her very popular with the local moms, and now she had a group of over two dozen youngsters she read to every week from two to four.

Mowing the grass that morning had provided ample distraction, so she didn't dwell on Dad, but during her shower, the heavy weight of her loss began pressing in again. So far she'd managed to hold her tears, but staring at the kitchen she could sense the tears were close. She shook her head to drag her thoughts away from her loss yet again.

She swallowed her hurt and turned for the bedroom, snatched up her purse, and began digging for her keys as she walked to the garage. She threw herself behind the wheel of her car and gasped, struggling not to cry. Goddammit! Get control of yourself! He's dead! There's nothing you can do about it! Deal with it! she raged at herself. She started the car and backed out of the garage. She could still feel the weight of her loss, but at least the tears were gone as she focused on driving.

Wurth, a small burg built on the timber industry, was only fifteen minutes from home. The Cogburns were well respected in town, and a sizable portion of the town's men were still employed in some fashion by Cogburn Lumber, either directly employed by working at the mill still operating outside of town, or indirectly by logging in the surrounding forests to provide raw material for the mill. The mill was the original facility started by Rob's great-great-grandfather, much updated and modernized of course, so there was a lot of local history attached to the Cogburn name. Rob may have sold his portion of the business to his brothers, but he still had the Cogburn name, and he'd remained in town after Dave and Stu had moved to Bangor.

Wurth had a McDonald's, Subway, Dunkin Donuts, and a Wendy's, but she avoided those, pulling to a stop in front of the Blue Moose Grill. It was Rob's go-to place with good burgers and onion rings. She arrived in the thick of the lunch rush, but that was just what she wanted.

"Britney! I'm surprised to see you here for lunch!"

Britney forced a smile. Rob seemed to know everyone and because he was well liked, everyone in town knew her. She was still putting names and faces together, and the pretty, older woman's name escaped her. Betty? Barbara? Something like that. What she could remember was the woman and her husband owned and operated the establishment.

"I was in the mood for one of your moose burgers."

"Right this way. How's that good-looking, hunk of a man of yours?"

Britney's forced smile became a genuine, if small, smile. "Same as always."

"Here you go. What can I get you to drink?"

"Diet Sprite."

"Be right up."

Britney sat at her table, watching the television playing in the corner. Cable wasn't available at home, and they could only get the three channels broadcast out of Bangor. Rob hadn't had a television when she first arrived, but they did now, though they rarely turned it on. She smiled with the thought. The last time it was on was when Rob had brought home a porn DVD targeted to women. Over the next week, they'd watched the video together while trying to imitate what the actors were doing on the screen. That had been fun, and it was another thing she could check off her sexual bucket list.

A year ago she wouldn't have considered it a great treat to get to watch a cable news channel, but while she waited on her food to arrive, she was glued to the screen. There was no sound, but the closed captioning was on so she could keep up with stories. When the newscast returned from commercial, the newsreader launched into story about the infamous mobster, Han Hyun-ki, dying. A cold hand squeezed her heart. She wanted to look away, to not watch, but like a horrible accident, she couldn't avert her gaze.

The story wasn't long, but pictures of Dad, Kwang-hoon, and to her horror, herself, popped up on the screen. The story quickly touched on the highlights of her testifying against her brother, Kwang-hoo's conviction, her death, and the death of Dad. She recognized the photo. It was taken by a former boyfriend about three years ago on the Bow Bridge in Central Park as she smiled at the camera. He'd posted the photo on his Facebook page, and she assumed that was where the newscast had acquired it.

She furtively glanced around to see if anyone noticed that Han Bo-bae looked suspiciously like Britney Hadley, but no one was looking at her or paying any attention to the television. After a moment her heart started beating again.

She ate her moose burger and fries, staring at her plate. She was relatively certain no one had noticed, but she still felt self-conscious after seeing her face on the newscast. She was supposed to disappear, not have her mug plastered all over the television. She finished eating and was paying when the story recycled. She studiously ignored what was playing on the television and focused on paying for her meal. She breathed a sigh of relief as she walked out of the Moose, as the locals called it.

She still had over an hour to kill. Sitting in her car, she thought about calling Rob and telling him about the news story, she but decided not to bother him. There was nothing he could do about it, and she didn't want to come across as a frightened child crying about the monster under the bed. She decided to go to the library and spend her extra time trying to find out more about the news story.

Most things she needed to do on the internet she did on her phone. Like cable, there was no high-speed internet at home either. She and Rob shared a laptop, and if one of them absolutely, positively, had to use the internet at home on the computer, one of them placed their phone next to one of the large windows at the front of the house and used the phone to create a Wi-Fi hotspot. The speed wasn't great, but it worked. Rob used his computer at work for most things, and if Britney needed to use the internet on a computer, she usually used one of the free ones in the library on Wednesday.

"Hey, Britney. You're early today," John Greer, the sole librarian, said as she walked in.

"Hey, John," she said, trying to force some life into her voice. "I need to use one of the computers."

"Help yourself," he said with a wave at the six computers placed back-to-back on two tables, a short partition between each device providing privacy.

She sat down at one of the computers and quickly called up the website for CNN. She was relieved the story wasn't on the front page, but it didn't take her long to find the article. Just like on the television, there was her picture along with the story. She swallowed hard and checked FoxNews, the other big, twenty-four-hour news service. It also had the story of Kwang-hoon's conviction, along with Dad's death, but at least her picture wasn't there. That's something, I guess.

She exited the websites and logged off the computer. Trying not to look upset, she rose to go find some books to read.

"Find what you were looking for?" John asked.

She forced a half-smile. "Yeah." She didn't elaborate, and John didn't inquire further.

She selected a dozen books from the kids' section to read. Most of her audience was four to six-year-olds, kids old enough to enjoy being read to and who could be left with minimum supervision for an hour or so. Several of the moms usually hung around, gossiping with each other as Britney entertained their kids.

"Ready?" John asked as she sauntered up to the desk.

She spread the books on the desk for him to see. They were a collection of favorites, like Go, Dog. Go! and Green Eggs and Ham, along with some not as well-known books like Have you Ever Seen a Sneep and If I Built a Car. Go, Dog. Go! was a fan favorite and she read it every week, but she always made sure most of the books were fresh each week... or as fresh as they could be from the library's limited selection. John picked up If I Built a Car and waggled the book in front of her.

"We just got this in. It's a great book. I think the kids, the boys especially, are going to love it."

"Maybe I'll save it for the middle then."

John added the book back to the small stack. There was a definite an ebb and flow to the story time. Some moms arrived early, a few late, but most arrived about twenty minutes in and stayed for about an hour. That was about all the six-year-old attention span allowed.

She gathered the books and moved to the heavy, comfortable chair she sat in as the kids piled on the floor at her feet. Maddie Theriot arrived right at two. She was always the first to arrive and the last to leave. Her mom worked, so it was her grandmother who brought her to story time. According to the woman, story time at the library with Ms. Britney was the highlight of Maddie's week.

Britney led off with Mr. Moose on the Loose, a rhyming story about an anthropomorphic moose living in a town of like animals as he stumbled and bumbled his way through his day, wreaking havoc with his antlers by constantly knocking things over in stores and getting stuck in doorways. The town barely put up with him and talked about him behind his back, until at the end of the story, where because of his great size and strength, he was able to rescue a cat from a tree. The story was one of Maddie's favorites, and Britney always started with it because she was often the only one around to hear it.

Britney worked her way through the stack of books, reading the words from over the top as she showed the pictures to her audience. She always read Fox in Socks in the middle of reading time because the kids always got a huge kick out of her stumbling over the book's tongue twisters, and as John predicted, everyone liked If I Built a Car. As story time began to grow short, the cluster of kids at her feet began to thin, until it was only Maddie and Gunner Harrison were left.

She closed with Green Eggs and Ham. The nice thing about books like Fox in Socks, Go, Dog. Go! and Green Eggs and Ham was she'd read them so many times she had them memorized and didn't actually have to read them anymore.

"Can you tell Ms. Britney thank you?" Gunner's mom, Rachel, said as Britney closed the final book.

"Thank you, Ms. Britney!" Gunner and Maddie said in chorus.

She smiled at them. Some of the kids were a bit rambunctious, but Gunner and Maddie were sweet. "You're welcome. Will I see you next week?"

"Yeah!" Gunner cried. "Momma, can I take that car book home?"

"Sure," Rachel replied. Britney handed Gunner the book. The woman smiled at her. "I was going to tell you, I saw a woman on television today that could pass for your sister."

A rush of impending doom washed over Britney. "You did?" she asked, hoping she sounded like she was curious.

"Yeah. They were talking about some gangster or something who recently died on CNN. He had a daughter, dead now, and the picture they showed looked just like you. The hair was a little different, but when I first saw it, I thought it was you."

Britney forced a smile. "They say everyone has a twin somewhere."

Rachel nodded. "Well, I saw yours." Gunner was tugging on Rachel's hand. "I guess we'll see you next week."

"I'll be here," Britney said, pushing as much cheer into her voice as possible.

"Did I hear you were on TV?" Janice, Maddie's grandmother, asked as Rachel and Gunner went to check out his book.

Britney shook her head. "No. Rachel said she saw someone that looked like me, but it wasn't me."

"Oh. One of those strangers that look like twins thing."

Britney nodded, desperately wanting to drop the topic, but afraid to make a big deal out of it for fear of drawing attention to it. That was one of the things she'd learned during her orientation as she entered the witness security program. Missy, her coach at witsec, said most people never remembered a conversation unless something drew their attention to it. She'd taught Britney if someone started getting close to the truth she wasn't to panic or to obviously try to change the subject, but simply let it run its course. Britney's new identity was bulletproof because it was as real and legitimate as anyone else's, and ten minutes after the uncomfortable questions were asked, they'd likely be forgotten.

"Yeah, probably. I didn't see it myself, but I wish I had," she lied.

Janice grinned and nodded. "Yeah. I'd like to see myself on television, even if it wasn't me. That's as close to famous as I'm likely to get."

"I know how you feel."

"Oh, poo," she scoffed. "I've heard you on the radio."

Britney again forced a smile. That one was a little easier because they were moving past the touchy subjects. "Hard to be famous if nobody knows it's you, though."

Her smile grew. "Well, you're famous around Wurth. Nobody else around here has their voice on the radio."

Britney bobbed her head. "True enough. You think it's enough to get the mayor to throw me a parade?"

Janice giggled. "I don't know. Why don't you ask?" She took her granddaughter by the hand. "Come on, Maddie. Let's go so Ms. Britney can go home."

"Bye," Maddie said, waving her little hand as she followed Janice out.

"Bye, Maddie. See you next week."

Britney blew out a cleansing breath. Maybe that was the worst of it. By tomorrow, hopefully, anyone that saw Han Bo-bae on the television will have forgotten about it. She gathered the books and carried them to the desk.

"Thanks," John said.

She nodded. "Yeah. If Gunner returns If I Built a Car before next week, will you put it back for me? Everyone seemed to enjoy it."

"Will do. See you next week," he said as he dragged the books off the counter for later filing.

She had to force a smile. "Yeah. See you."

She walked out of the library. Rain was threatening, the sky growing dark in the direction of home. A smile touched her lips. Home. She knew it was sometime before Rob asked for her hand, but she wasn't sure when it stopped being Rob's house and became home, but that's how she thought of it now.

She sat in her car, started it, and started home. She'd gone all afternoon without wanting to cry even once, and as her Subaru purred along the highway, her thoughts weren't of Dad, but of the news report with her picture included in it.

Rob pulled to a stop in the garage, wondering how Britney was feeling. When he left her this morning, she was still sleeping. Tuesdays and Thursdays, the days she worked in Bangor, she got up with him, but Monday, Wednesday, and Friday he normally left her asleep in bed. He hoped a good night's sleep had helped dull her pain.

"Hey," he said as he stepped out his car. Having her meet him in the garage when he returned home was the best part of his work day.

"Hey, yourself," she replied in their ritualistic exchange.

He followed her into the house and pulled her into a kiss. Sometimes his kiss was lust filled, but today he kept it gentle. "How are you feeling today?"

"Better, I guess. I had a scare today."

"A scare?"

"Yeah. I was feeling sorry for myself and went into town for lunch. I was at the Moose and the television was tuned to CNN. They did a story on Dad's death, and they showed my picture."

"Shit," he muttered. "Did anyone notice?"

"Rachel Michaud saw it. I played it off as one of those doppelganger things you see now and then."

"You think she bought it?"

"I think so. Janice Theriot overheard us talking about it."

His first instinct was to go on alert, but he forced himself to think it through. Wurth was a small, close-knit community. Even if people knew Britney's true identity, it was unlikely anything would happen. In Wurth, they protected our own. Having her living here with him was rife with traps, but the risks were worth the reward. Some may even suspect Britney wasn't who she said she was, but they'd accepted their explanation that Bae Hawkins, the name he'd first introduced her with when they were in hiding, was her professional name, and nothing else had been said about it. Just like the change in her name, this too would soon be forgotten.

"It should be okay," he finally said. "By tomorrow the story will be old news."

She nodded slowly. "I hope you're right."

"I am," he said with forced confidence. "Even if everyone in town knew you were Han Bo-bae, it wouldn't change anything now. Nobody up here cares what happens in New York, and they've seen you for who you are."

She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I have to tell you, my heart nearly stopped when I saw my picture on the TV."

He grinned. She was beginning to relax. "I can imagine. Other than that, you're doing okay?"

"Yeah," she replied. There was still some lingering sadness in her voice, but she was starting to recover.

"Want to go out for dinner tonight?"

She shook her head. "No. I want to stay right here."

"I like that idea."

He helped her finish the meal preparation. They were sitting down when it began to rain. He'd checked the weather radar before he left work, and it appeared we were in for several hours of rain tonight, so there'd likely be no sitting on the deck later.

"Any news on Dad's funeral?" she asked as they ate their Poutine, a quick and easy Canadian dish made with French fries, cheese, and gravy. She'd added a fried egg to the top of theirs because that was the way he made it.

"Funeral is supposed to be Friday. That's all I know."

She nodded slowly. "Do you think I could go?"

"Britney..." he began.

"I know what you're going to say," she said quickly, cutting him off, "but I could stand off to the side or sit in a car. I could wear a veil. Nobody would have to know I was there."

He reached across the table and she took his hand. "You know you can't do that. Stuff like that only works in movies and television. I suspect there's going to be some news cameras there. There'll probably be security because of that, and you wouldn't even be able to get close. Worse, if news crews are there, and they see this lone woman standing off to the side, don't you think that's going to raise some questions? Even if they don't get a picture of you, it could start speculation that you're not actually dead."

She slumped. "I know. I was just hoping that maybe there was a way."

He gripped her hand. "I know. I'm so sorry it has to be this way."

"Yeah. Me too."

They ate in relative silence. When they were done, he offered to clean up, but she insisted on helping, claiming being busy helped her think less.

"Want a glass of wine?" he asked.

"No."

She wasn't crying, but it still hurt to see her so sad. It was to be expected, of course, but he felt powerless to help. As they finished, he took her hand and pulled her to the great room.

"Sit," he said as he pulled her down with him. "I have an idea."

"What?"

"Let's get away, the two of us, for a couple of days."