| Mystery and Crime Fiction posted March 14, 2025 | Chapters: |
...52 53 -54- 55... 
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Lives On The Line
A chapter in the book Veil of Secrets
Veil of Secrets - Chap 54
by Begin Again
The sedan moved smoothly through the Chicago traffic, leaving O'Hare behind. Garland settled into the seat, letting himself breathe for the first time in days. He was free. The Senator had come through, just as promised. No more backdoor deals, no more hiding.
"You can relax now, sir," the driver said. His voice was smooth and professional. "We'll be at the safe house in an hour."
Garland nodded, his shoulders finally releasing some of their tension. "Any chance we can get something to eat?"
The driver gestured to the paper bag on the seat beside him. "The Senator thought you'd be hungry. We've got sandwiches and bottled water."
They pulled off the highway into a quiet roadside rest stop — a single picnic table under a thin oak tree, the leaves rustling in the wind. The driver parked, grabbed his own sandwich from the front seat, and joined Garland at the table.
"Nice spot," Garland muttered, unwrapping his sandwich. It had turkey, crisp lettuce, and a hint of mustard. The first bite was sharp and tangy.
The driver nodded, chewing. "Quiet. No cameras. Easy to watch for tails."
Garland took another bite — then stopped. His throat tightened, his stomach clenched. The taste shifted, turning bitter and metallic. Something was wrong.
Heat spread up his neck. His hands shook. His vision blurred at the edges. He tried to speak, but only a rasp came out. The sandwich dropped from his fingers.
The driver watched him, then calmly wiped his hands on a napkin.
Garland's head slumped forward onto the table. His breathing grew shallow, fingers twitching weakly before going still.
The driver waited. Watching as the poison took hold. He pulled out his phone. The call was short. Direct. "It's done."
A few seconds later, an engine rumbled to life in the distance. From beyond the roadside — just out of sight — a battered, rusted sedan crept forward, emerging from the overgrown weeds where it had been stashed earlier. The second driver eased it onto the gravel lot.
It would look like Garland had driven himself here to anyone passing by.
The limo driver stood, taking one last look at Garland's slumped form. He reached for the whiskey bottle, cracked the seal, and set it beside the Judge's limp hand. The cap? Tossed casually onto the dirt.
He wiped his hands on a napkin. "Let's go," he murmured, sliding into the waiting limo.
The doors closed softly behind them, and the car glided away. The rusted sedan remained behind, its stolen identity now Garland's.
Garland's mind screamed at him to move, fight, or do something. His fingers trembled as they fumbled across the table. His hand closed around the mustard packet. His mind latched onto one last desperate thought.
With the last of his strength, he smeared mustard onto the wood, dragging his fingers to form two shaky letters. His head slumped forward onto the table. Darkness swallowed him.
*****
The sheriff noticed the car first. Then, the man at the table.
His gut told him the story before he even got out of his cruiser. Another drunk. Maybe just some poor bastard down on his luck. They stopped here sometimes, trying to sleep it off.
He sighed and pushed open his door. His boots crunched on the gravel as he approached. "Hey, buddy," he called out, giving the man a light shake on the shoulder.
No response.
The sheriff's frown deepened as he leaned in. The man's skin was cold, and his breathing was shallow — if he was breathing at all. The gravity of the situation hit him like a ton of bricks.
"Shit," the sheriff muttered, grabbing for his radio. "Dispatch, I got an unresponsive male at the Mile 17 rest stop. Mid-forties. No ID in sight. I need paramedics."
The sheriff's eyes narrowed as he examined the table. There, smeared across the wood in mustard, were two letters — a K or an R and either an N or an M. He didn't know what they meant. Probably nothing. But somewhere, someone would know exactly what they meant. He snapped a picture with his phone. He might be small town, but he recognized evidence when he saw it.
If the man slumped over the table was still alive — someone may have wanted him dead.
*****
O'Hare buzzed with the usual chaos of an international terminal — travelers dragging overstuffed carry-ons, announcements blaring from unseen speakers, and the constant shuffle of feet on polished floors. It was the perfect cover.
Seated in a wheelchair near Gate C17, Zhang remained still, buried beneath an oversized coat, a scarf draped loosely around his neck, and a cap tugged low over his face. He wore an oxygen mask strapped over his nose and mouth, adding the final touch. The disguise was simple but effective — just an old man, frail, exhausted, waiting for his flight.
His fixer, a polished man in an expensive suit, stood behind him, gripping the wheelchair's handles with the ease of someone who had done this before. His sharp eyes flicked around the terminal, searching for anything or anyone out of place. He'd recognized the extra show of law enforcement, but as long as he remained cool, they wouldn't suspect his patient.
A flight attendant approached, her expression wary as she checked the boarding list. "Sir, I'm afraid early boarding hasn't started —"
The fixer was ready. With a smooth motion, he slipped a thick envelope into her hand as if passing her a ticket. His voice remained low, his tone warm and persuasive. "The old man can't handle the crowds. Oxygen issues. Doctor's orders."
The flight attendant hesitated, glancing down at Zhang. He let out a weak, rattling cough.
The fixer pressed on, leaning slightly closer. "It's been a long journey just to get him here. Let's not make it harder than it needs to be."
She shifted uncomfortably, fingers brushing over the envelope. There was no need to open it. She knew what was inside.
A pause. Then — a forced nod. She'd done this before. "Go ahead," she murmured, her voice clipped.
The fixer didn't waste a second. With a firm grip, he pushed Zhang's wheelchair toward the private boarding corridor leading to the jet bridge, slipping past the waiting passengers unnoticed. Zhang remained motionless, his head tilted slightly to the side as if lost in the haze of illness.
As the wheelchair disappeared down the quiet passage, the fixer exhaled. It was done.
*****
Eleanor adjusted the cuffs of her crisp uniform, casually moving through the terminal. She blended effortlessly with the other airline staff, but every move she made was deliberate and calculated.
Eleanor adjusted the cuffs of her crisp uniform, casually moving through the terminal. She blended effortlessly with the other airline staff, but every move she made was deliberate and calculated.
Maggie was here. She could feel it, but where? A chill ran down her spine when she heard a cry.
She couldn't see the baby. The woman wrapped the child tightly in a soft blanket, hiding her face against her chest. Eleanor could hear the tiny sniffles and sense the small shifting movements beneath the fabric, but it wasn't enough. She needed to see her to confirm what her soul already knew.
Her granddaughter was so close but still out of reach.
She forced herself to stay focused, her heart pounding in her chest. This wasn't about her emotions. This was about getting Maggie back.
The woman holding her was anxious, her fingers clutching the baby too tightly. Her eyes darted toward security, scanning for something or someone.
The man beside her looked even worse. He sat stiffly, bouncing his knee, gripping the handle of his carry-on suitcase like it was the only thing keeping him grounded. He never once looked at the baby.
Eleanor studied the tension between them. They weren't a couple. They weren't parents.
Then, abruptly, the woman stood. "I'll be right back," she muttered.
She pulled the baby closer — too close, like she was shielding her from the world. Without another word, she turned and walked toward the restrooms.
Eleanor moved instantly. She kept a careful distance but wasn't letting the woman out of her sight.
"Tango," she murmured into her earpiece. "She's taking the baby into the restroom. He's staying behind. Keep an eye on him."
Tango's voice came through sharp. "I've got my eyes on him."
Eleanor slowed, pretending to check her watch as she waited just outside the restroom entrance.The seconds dragged. The woman didn’t come out.
Eleanor shifted closer, pretending to check her phone. She could hear muffled sounds inside—movement, water running. Then—a sharp, fussy cry.
Was it Maggie?
Eleanor’s breath caught. The cry had been so quick, so faint. Had she imagined it? It was so small, so helpless. Had something happened?
Her hands clenched at her sides. She couldn’t go in—not yet. That wasn’t how this worked. She had to be patient and let the woman make a mistake.
Her stomach twisted. A long silence stretched on. Too long.
Then, the door opened.
The woman emerged quickly, her eyes darting around the terminal, shifting the bundle in her arms, tucking it close—too close.
Something was different.
Eleanor's heart raced. Was something wrong?
She strained to see the child, but she was hidden from view.
And she was silent.
Spirits from the past -
Eleanor Bennett - ghost detective
Danni - jr. ghost detective working with Matthew Donatelli
Current Characters -Bayside's Community --
Jenna Bennett - Event planner, Eleanor's daughter, Maggie's mother, Donatelli's love
Matthew Donatelli - Bayside's lead detective and Maggie's father
Garth Woodman - FBI Agent and widower (Allie) and interested in Rebecca
Rebecca Cascio Stillwell - recently inherited the Vineyard after discovering her adoption
Joseph DeLuca - Bayside detective
John Doyle - Ex-judge, nemesis to all, and deceased
Vince Rossi - mobster and Doyle's cellmate and now witness protection
Judge Alex Garland - the man trying to step into John Doyles corrupt shoes
Rosalie Jarvis - a lawyer currently on Zhang's payroll
Nathaniel Devereaux - International Art Dealer
Criminals - Good and Bad
Zhang Wei - once involved in human trafficking with Doyle, seeks revenge for his career losses after Doyle's downfall from the Judge's bench.
Frank DiVito - retired gangster and childhood friend of Garth
Sam - Frankie's right-hand man and friend
Jack Lexington - Chicago kingpin
Danny Veraci -a dear friend from the past and casino owner
Pays
one point
and 2 member cents. Eleanor Bennett - ghost detective
Danni - jr. ghost detective working with Matthew Donatelli
Current Characters -Bayside's Community --
Jenna Bennett - Event planner, Eleanor's daughter, Maggie's mother, Donatelli's love
Matthew Donatelli - Bayside's lead detective and Maggie's father
Garth Woodman - FBI Agent and widower (Allie) and interested in Rebecca
Rebecca Cascio Stillwell - recently inherited the Vineyard after discovering her adoption
Joseph DeLuca - Bayside detective
John Doyle - Ex-judge, nemesis to all, and deceased
Vince Rossi - mobster and Doyle's cellmate and now witness protection
Judge Alex Garland - the man trying to step into John Doyles corrupt shoes
Rosalie Jarvis - a lawyer currently on Zhang's payroll
Nathaniel Devereaux - International Art Dealer
Criminals - Good and Bad
Zhang Wei - once involved in human trafficking with Doyle, seeks revenge for his career losses after Doyle's downfall from the Judge's bench.
Frank DiVito - retired gangster and childhood friend of Garth
Sam - Frankie's right-hand man and friend
Jack Lexington - Chicago kingpin
Danny Veraci -a dear friend from the past and casino owner
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