Creepy Tree Dresser by ZaraMoro via www.DeviantArt.com

Maggie saw him get out of the two-door compact on the other side of the street as she made change for her customer’s yard sale purchase. “Thank you. Have a good weekend.” As the woman walked away, Maggie scanned the tree-lined street. A neighbor was mowing his lawn. Her kids were playing next door with the Skrowneck kids. A young woman hopped out of her minivan and began looking at the toddler clothes on a table at the end of the driveway.

The man wandered along the tables lining the driveway. He was six foot one and athletically built with short sandy brown hair. Maggie stood next to him at a table of men’s clothing. “It’s been awhile, Mike,” she said as he picked up a sweater.

He grinned. The familiar lop-sided smile she remembered. “I saw you scope out the street when I pulled up. Still sharp as ever.”

“Mother skills. Can’t be too careful.”

“Good looking kids.” He put the sweater back on the table, neatly folded.

“Thanks. But you didn’t show up to complement me on my children.” Her husband, Tom, was talking to an older man, looking at tools he was selling.

“You’re right. We think your parents hid a microfiche in a dresser they left you.”

Maggie knew the dresser he was talking about. “I sold that dresser five years ago. I checked it, Mike. It was the only thing I had left from them. I removed everything that could be removed. There was nothing.”

Mike moved to the next table where Maggie had a few small appliances and mismatched glassware and mugs. “Do you know who bought it?”

“A young couple. They were looking for a dresser they could refinish for a baby’s room.”

“Does your husband know you were in the Agency?”

“No. I told him the scars are from a car accident.” Maggie tried to forget that last mission. Mike had been her partner and it had gone wrong fast. She had been lucky to survive.

He sighed. “I need to look at the dresser. Do you know where they live?”

Maggie checked her husband. He was taking money from the old guy. “Yeah, we delivered it to their house.” Her stomach clenched in a way she remembered from her days as an agent. “I’ll write it down.” She pulled a small notepad from the breast pocket of her husband’s shirt she wore over her tee shirt and wrote down the address. “What do you think is on the fiche?”

“Your parents were working with a Russian scientist. We think they hid the fiche just before they were killed.” Mike glanced at her. “They were good operatives, Maggie. As good as you.”

“Thanks. That doesn’t make it any easier to lose your parents when you’re fifteen.” An unexpected pang of grief swept over her. She took a second to recover. “After the Agency recruited me, they told me the real story of their death. They looked at that dresser then and didn’t find anything, either.”

“Even so, I have to check.” His eyes twinkled. “Want to come along? Just for old-times sake?”

She snorted. “It’s been eleven years. It’s too late to go back to that life.”

That grin spread across his face. “Don’t say I didn’t try. I’ll let you know what I find.” Mike shook her hand as Tom walked up. “Thank you for the suggestions, Mrs. Duley. I’ll check them out.” He went back to his car.

“Who was that?”

“Guy looking for old dressers to refinish. I sent him to the thrift shop.” Maggie put her arm around his waist and smiled up at him. “Let’s go to lunch after we finish up here.” She only felt a little remorse about not accepting Mike’s offer.

Mike called two days later. “I found the fiche. It was in one of the drawer pulls.”

Maggie was surprised. She had really checked that dresser. “Anything interesting?”

“Yeah. Can we meet?”

Curiosity spiked. “Uh, sure. Today, 2pm? Coffee shop on Main Street. I pick up the kids from school at three.”

They sat at an outside table where the sound of traffic on the street gave them privacy. After the waitress brought their coffee Mike said, “I made a copy.” He slid a thumb-drive across the table. Maggie scooped it up neatly as she reached for the sugar. “It’s not classified?”

“I deleted that stuff. The rest of it is a message to you.” He studied her face.

Maggie stirred her coffee. “They knew they were going to die?”

“It seems so.” He sighed. “Watch it. Call me when ever. I’ve always got an ear for you.” He rose, kissed the top of her head and paid the bill on the way out.

She watched it the next day after Tom and the kids left for work and school. The pictures were grainy and jumped erratically but it was her parents, just the way she remembered them. Tears fell silently down her face as they wished her long life and happiness. She watched it over and over until she had no tears left. After lunch she called Mike. “Thank you.”

“I’m sorry it took so long to get it to you. I know how much it means.”

“Not your fault. I had that dresser for years.” She wiped away new tears. “I appreciate it.”

“You’re welcome. Call me, Maggie. Anytime.”

“I will.” She hung up, opened her jewelry box and took out the top tray. Maggie buried the thumb-drive under the junk bracelets and necklaces and closed it all up. After washing her face she sat on the front porch with a glass of iced tea and watched the birds hop around the lawn. Now that she was a mother she finally understood how her parents had protected her. Tom parked in the driveway – the two kids piled out of the car. “Mom!” they shouted as they raced across the yard. Oh yes, she thought. I’d do exactly the same.

The End

998 Words

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