Chapter 17: Life Returns to Normal, or Does It?

Life Returns to Normal, or Does It?

Our flight to Chicago was routine; nothing exciting happened on the flight itself or at the airport. We took a taxi from the airport as it was a workday and our friends were at work. I sure as hell did not trust our luggage on mass transit, having to guard it and my wife’s virtue. It is best to spend the extra cash and arrive home safely.

The taxi pulled into our driveway so we could unload, and Grandma Jorgenson, like a flash, was out of the house, welcoming us home. She said she had been worried about us the whole weekend. As the driver and I unloaded, Karen told her grandmother about our weekend. She chuckled at the idea of opening a cooking school in Washington. The very idea of how the senator treated her granddaughter appalled her. She said she was glad we were home safe.

Tuesday morning, after lectures, I read in the paper that the senator faced charges of receiving a bribe, charges of two counts of espionage, and a lesser charge of sexual assault. It did not look good for the senator. I tried to contact the congressman from Michigan who was my “friend.” I learned he was out of town on a fact-finding mission. My “friend” would not be back until late next week. That I found humorous.

Poor Senator Stuart; things just kept getting worse for him. Besides the charges he was facing, he was facing expulsion from the Senate, and his wife filed for divorce, claiming adultery. He would face serving life in maximum security if found guilty. The senator would die an old, lonely man if he received the maximum sentence.

Karen waited a week before she called Andi and Olive. She did not want to draw any attention to herself. No one knew outside of a few who the blonde woman of mystery was, and we intended to keep it that way. I took a couple of calls from the Washington FBI expressing gratitude for my help in bringing down the senator. Now they were getting all sorts of tips about other players in the Washington, DC, area. They were going to be a busy bunch.

I got in touch with Lawrence to see how he was; he said he was busy handling cases sent his way dealing with local politicians. It seemed to be open season on politicians. Quite a few local and national politicians said they chose not to run because they wished to retire or wanted to spend more time with their families. In other words, the politicians feared their past would catch up to them.

Life started to settle down, my class lectures went as planned, and my students, for the most part, were passing. For the ones that were not, I was suggesting to them that they select another major and not torture themselves with upper-level math courses. History and education majors were the most popular with these marginal students. I always wished them well and success in their new majors. Not everyone had the talents needed to be the next great mathematician.

My Washington contacts other than Andi and Randy rarely called me. When they did, it was to update me on Mike. As far as they could ascertain, Mike was living in an estate owned by a shell corporation, in turn owned by another similar company. It would take time to get through the layers, but I was patient. As long as we knew where he was, I could bide my time. I still spent one afternoon a week at the university library researching shell companies, how they were structured, and how to find out who ultimately controlled them.

It had been several weeks since I had heard from anyone except Randy and Andi. Both of them had settled into jobs that they both liked. Andi worked as an analyst for one of the defense contractors, and Randy worked at the Pentagon as a civilian employee. He liked it immensely; the best part was that he got to go home every night to Olive and did not have to share a cubicle with another soldier. Besides, Olive looked much better than any army roommate he had previously.

Ten days before Thanksgiving, I received a phone call from my contact at FBI Headquarters in Washington, DC. Instead of going to trial and having all his dirty laundry aired to the public, the senator decided to plead guilty. A negotiated sentence of ten years was proposed, with him eligible for parole after eight. He also faced a lifetime ban from ever holding public office again. I was agreeable to the sentence; his admitting his guilt was satisfactory to me. I called Randy first and then Andi to tell them what I learned. They were OK with it too. When I got home that night and told Karen, she was unhappy with anything less than the death penalty. She was still upset about what he said he wanted to do with her.

Friday night before Thanksgiving, when I got home, Grandma Jorgenson told me we would have company for Thanksgiving. I figured Lawrence and Camilla, and she told me Lawrence and Camilla were flying to Minot to spend the holiday with her family. So I figured then it was my parents; again, I was wrong. My parents spent most of their time with my younger brother and his new wife. Karen and I did not get an invitation to his wedding, so I figured they had pretty much written me off as a son. It was OK by me, as my mother had repeatedly sided with a stranger rather than take my side. That was still a sore point for me. She believed what Ginny B had told her and always took her side.

Grandma Jorgenson finally said that Randy and Olive were coming and would spend Wednesday night through Sunday. They would stay in our guest bedroom. I got out my address book, looked up Andi’s number, and called her. I asked how she was doing, and we made small talk for a few minutes until I got to the point. I asked her what she was doing for Thanksgiving. She said she was going to celebrate alone this year; I said you were not. I then told her Randy and his wife were spending it with us, and the invitation was open to her too. Andi accepted, though she said she would feel better if she stayed at the motel near us instead of staying with us. She was worried about ruining her friendship with Karen; she did not want to cause problems between Karen and myself.

When I got off the phone with Andi, I went to tell Grandma Jorgenson to expect another person for Thanksgiving. Karen was in the kitchen with her grandmother, discussing what to have for the Thanksgiving meal besides the turkey. I announced to both of them that there would be another mouth to feed. I explained that I had called Andi to see how she was doing and what she planned for Thanksgiving. They were upset that Andi planned to spend the holiday alone. Karen felt I did the right thing by inviting her; now the next thing was to figure out where Andi would sleep. That would not be a problem, I explained, as Andi was going to stay at the motel where she stayed the last time she was in town. Karen did not like the idea of having guests stay elsewhere, but we were out of room, and she knew it. At least we would be spending a lot of our time together with our extended family, which now included Andi as a cousin or sister. I was not sure how she fit in yet.

The Thanksgiving weekend went as planned. Our guests arrived Wednesday evening. Karen and I drove Andi over to the motel and brought her back so she could spend the evening with us. Thursday through Sunday was family time, and Karen and Olive reconnected with each other. Randy and I spent most of our time in front of the TV watching football. When we were not watching TV, we were talking about the latest DC gossip. Since the arrest of the senator, the politicians have been a relatively quiet bunch. The big thing was the talks coming up in the spring between the USSR and the USA on a nuclear arms treaty. Everyone and his brother were wondering how long the negotiations would last and what each side was willing to give up for lasting peace.

Saturday afternoon, everyone wanted to get out and spend time outdoors since it was sunny and warm for once, a rarity for Chicago this time of the year. Karen suggested we head to Washington Park and the lake there. She enjoyed walking around it and spending time remembering how much of our early history centered on the lake. I drove over, thinking to myself how the ladies would react if we parked near where Ginny B had died. If there was a repeat of earlier comments, I wondered if there was something to this psychic stuff after all. I parked the VW bus near the spot, not quite as close to it as before, and everyone, including Grandma Jorgenson, got out. I let Karen play tour guide. She was pointing out to Andi and Olive where the wedding ceremony was to have taken place. That earned me nasty looks from both Andi and Olive. I just smiled back and decided it was not worth it to comment on it. Next, Karen led the group over to where I liked to come and sit, looking out over the lake to relax. Andi said she remembered me bringing her and Randy here when we started planning the sting. Karen then ended the tour over near where Ginny B. lost her life.

Karen said solemnly, “This is the spot where James proved to what extent he loved me, and I will always love him for what he did to prove it.”

Before Karen could say another thing, Olive piped up, “Something evil happened here; I can sense it.”

“Yes, I as well; it is as if evil is rooted in this spot and can’t ever move from here. I am getting chills from the negative sensations this spot is emanating,” Andi added.

Karen burst into tears, and her grandmother went to comfort her. For a few minutes, Karen cried and motioned for me to come to her. When I did, she hugged me tightly. The rest of the group stood around, looking uncomfortable, while Karen got herself back under control.

“This is the spot where Ginny B, James’ former girl friend, had a knife out and was preparing to stab me, when James had to shoot her to end the threat. Unfortunately, she died as a result of being shot,” Karen said, trying her best to keep it together. “That woman was pure evil, no doubt, as she had already killed five others, including her own parents.”

The others, to some degree, knew the story but not the complete story as told by Karen. Andi and Olive went to be over by Karen’s side, and it was a group female hug. Randy came over to me and did not say a word; he just looked at me and gave me a nod of approval.

Grandma Jorgenson spoke up, “Let’s move on and leave the dead rest. I am sure Ginny is at rest and deserves our prayers for her salvation. There is more to this park that I love; it’s time to make this a happy time, one we can all remember with pleasure and forget about the past.”

Grandma Jorgenson grabbed my arm tightly and pulled me along, leaning into me. The rest of our now-extended family followed. The rest of the afternoon, we explored parts of the park that I had never taken the time to visit. There were plenty of things for a family to do, and I was glad to learn of them.

It was close to five o’clock when we walked to the bus. I was tired from our walk around the park, and I was looking forward to a quiet supper. I am sure Grandma Jorgenson had something cooking away in the slow cooker. My stomach started growling thinking about it. Everyone got in the van except Grandma Jorgenson. She had walked over to the spot where Ginny had died and stood silently, looking down. I was not sure what she was doing, and I thought it was not a good idea to bother her. The rest of the family were talking in the bus, sharing their impressions about the bus.

Finally, whatever Grandma Jorgenson was doing, she finished, turned, and walked back over to us. I gave her a questioning look as she approached the VW.

“I just told Ginny that she no longer had a hold on you and that you had moved on with a new woman in your life. I also told her she needed to move on too and find peace in the afterlife,” said Grandma Jorgenson.

I got goose bumps and looked over at where Ginny had passed. Was there any truth to what Grandma Jorgenson had said happened, and if so, into what sort of family I had married? Members that could sense what was happening to each other and could communicate with the departed—this went way beyond scary; it was terrifying. What else were they capable of doing? I decided I did not want to know.