The Premise

by Andy Crossfield

  "I’m …overwhelmed," Jack said swallowing hard, and with an astonished look on his face. "I couldn’t have done that better myself… and I’ve been putting the pieces together for twenty years!"

  He leaned in close to Colleen, hesitated an instant as he watched her lips, and kissed her with a passion welling up in him that he’d forgotten he had.

  Colleen pulled away and blushed bright red as she looked into his eyes. And then she kissed him back– like she meant it.

  Jack motioned for the check and replaced the box and knife in its compartment. They were out of the restaurant and back in Jack’s suite in minutes. They both knew it was too soon, …inevitable, but much too soon. But both also felt the need for spontaneity in their lives; something they could point to and say that hadn’t been planned, or analyzed, or budgeted.

  Perhaps their surrender to passion that night was simply a reaction to the stress and the fear they had experienced that day; and in a way, the loss of their inhibitions helped them balance the loss of stability in their lives. They welcomed the discovery of each other’s body; a new and exciting diversion from the sameness of each day, yet each knew full well that tomorrow would be awkward.

  Chapter 15 Reconciling The Impossible

  The information Kyle’s visitor had given him kept his mind racing most of the night. He didn’t know who to trust, and was frustrated by the fact that sitting in a cell, he really had very few options. He hoped Bill would take him up on his offer…. He needed to see the scene again, to find some clue that would prove his version of what happened.

  The more he thought about it though, the more he began to dismiss Tiny’s story. Even though Mark had a run in with Hank Caswell, there seemed to be no motive commensurate with his spectacular murder. Kyle didn’t know how to go about getting the Air Force to kill someone, but he was pretty sure the CEO of a prison would have a tough time ordering the hit. Besides, Mark was harmless; he simply didn’t have the criminal mindset that Kyle had learned to spot so easily over the years.

  Toward daylight Kyle finally drifted off to sleep. In his dream, Kyle was in pursuit of a monster; a cunning monster with the power of invisibility. Just when he had gotten close enough to grab it, it disappeared then reappeared somewhere else. Taunting him, drawing him unwittingly closer to its lair, until suddenly he was backed up to a wall. Then the monster appeared in front of him, and this time it attacked, snarling and ripping at his flesh with long, curved claws.

  Kyle jumped awake to avoid the monster’s crushing final blow and lay on his cell bunk, sweaty, panting, and trying to get his bearings. It took him a moment in the predawn light to realize where he was, and then another to remember his circumstances. He thought he was still dreaming when he noticed a dark figure, watching him just outside the cell bars.

  "Who’s there?" Kyle said, breaking the stillness but not moving a muscle.

  "Thought we’d get an early start… can you do without breakfast son?"

  "I sure can! I didn’t know if you’d believe me or not, Bill, but I’m past ready to get the hell out of here!"

  Bill Cooley motioned to a CO who opened the lock to Kyle’s cell. Kyle was up and out the door so fast it made Bill rock back on his heels…

  "Hold on there boy! We’re gonna need to put restraints on you for the trip. Ted? Care to help me over here?"

  Ted Wainwright came over grinning and holding a pair of nylon restraint cuffs for Kyle’s wrists as Kyle gave Bill a pleading look.

  "My way or no way son… what’s it gonna be?" said Bill.

  Kyle’s shoulders slumped in resignation as he held out his wrists. "Your way I guess."

  Ted pushed Kyle down the hall, past the rows of cells filled with just waking occupants The warden cleared them through the block gate, and the trio moved out into the yard next to the parking lot. The morning was clear and chilly. Dawn was just breaking and Kyle surprised himself, both at how much he savored fresh air, and how little time spent in lockup it took to appreciate it. They got into the car and headed for Randall.

  The trip took less than an hour, and by the time they got close to the base, the sun was up and Kyle’s senses were on full alert. When they topped the hill on the way to the base, Kyle tried to estimate where along the road Mark’s car had been when he was hit. By the time they actually got there, he realized everything had been changed.

  "Stop here!" Kyle yelled from the backseat.

  "Right along here, is where Mark’s car was hit, …I think…."

  As he had feared, the roadwork had removed the brush and familiar stretch of boulders Kyle was hoping to use as landmarks. He was forced to rely on features further off the road to help him locate the scene.

  The car proceeded slowly, allowing Kyle a good look at the terrain. Kyle made Ted turn around twice, and on the third pass, he spotted the trail he had used to get off the road on his way to Brisbee.

  "There!" Kyle shouted as he pointed out the window. "Right over there."

  Ted pulled onto the shoulder across from the area of freshly disturbed ground, and the three men got out of the car carrying picks and shovels as they headed toward the spot Kyle had identified. He relied on memory to locate the trail he used to strike out through the desert, and then backtracked from there to the location where he watched his van burn.

  "Right along here was where my van was hit and exploded, and over there is the ravine I told you about. We should find something burned nearby." Kyle said as he kicked at the recently tossed ground.

  "Looks like a road grader leveled this area all right," said Bill as he began digging down through the soft dirt.

  There were grader and excavator tracks all around the area, but despite digging down two feet, there was no burned soil to be found.

  "The Doc’s car would have been over there," Kyle said pointing to another recently worked area about a hundred feet from where they stood.

  Kyle went over and tried to find an area that hadn’t been recently scraped, but it seemed the area had been thoroughly scoured. He got Ted to dig several holes but found only freshly deposited dirt on top of caliche with no evidence of burning.

  He was about to head over to the first site again when he looked up and saw several vultures circling over a spot about four hundred yards off the road.

  "What do you think has them so interested?" Kyle said as he spun and headed in that direction.

  Bill and Ted followed Kyle off the road shoulder and into the desert. About halfway to the spot, they began to see the tracks of the grader and bulldozer again, as if some heavy traffic had traveled through the area.

  Getting closer, they found a large area of disturbed ground with several pits that had been dug and not filled in all the way. Fresh coyote tracks crisscrossed the entire area. When they got close to the main area that had been disturbed, they surprised two vultures, which began squawking and flapping their wings, attempting to ward off the intruders. Kyle moved toward the birds, swinging his shovel, throwing dirt into the air, and yelling. Finally, the men made them yield their meal.

  Ted was the first to spot the grisly sight. A prison issued boot and a torn, bloody pants leg covering a bloody gnawed stump was sticking out of the ground. The protruding leg had been partially uncovered and eaten by coyotes and now by vultures.

  More searching of the immediate area uncovered two more partially visible bodies, and beyond them the burned and blackened shape of a bumper was visible as it jutted out of the ground.

  "This looks like the spot," Bill said scratching his head. He reached in his pocket and pulled out a knife, then motioned for Kyle to come over. He cut the nylon restrains from Kyle’s wrists. "Guess your story checks out son. Sorry to doubt you. We had to be sure though."

  Bill pulled out his phone but soon realized he had no service there in the valley.

  "Damned inconvenient, isn’t it?" Kyle said as he grinned with vindication.

  Losing thirteen prisoners didn’t sit well with the warden. He took his job seriously, a
nd he wasn’t in a mood to be grinned at. Bill stared the grin right back inside Kyle.

  "So what do we do now Bill?" Kyle asked with a chastened and more serious look, trying to be helpful.

  "We get to high ground and call it in. We’ll need the sheriff out here ASAP. But just to be sure the evidence doesn’t disappear again," Bill's voice trailed off as he began taking pictures of as much of the crime scene as he could identify.

  After Bill finished, Kyle said, "I’ve been thinking about jurisdiction, Bill. Do you know if this is base land or not? Guess we should find out before we notify anybody."

  "Base or no, the sheriff will want to be in on this one. I’ll let them squabble about jurisdiction after we put these poor devils to rest. Let’s get back and make the call. Not much we can do out here with just shovels."

  On the drive back, Kyle wrestled with whether he should tell Bill what Tiny had told him the night before. He knew he shouldn’t withhold information like that unless he had reason to believe Bill was involved, and Bill had shown every indication that he was out to discover the truth wherever it led. He finally decided to tell Bill, but only when they were alone. No telling where Ted’s loyalties were.

  "So, am I free to go now, Bill?" Kyle asked, still rubbing his wrists and breaking the quiet of the drive back.

  "Sure, if you think that’s wise..." Bill said from the front seat, still staring forward.

  "But there’s fourteen reasons back there in the desert that would give me pause to relinquish protective custody," Bill said as he caught Kyle’s gaze in the rear view mirror.

  Kyle started to ask a question. "You think…."

  "Son," Bill interrupted, "I don’t know what to think at this point, but until we get the people that would do such a thing in custody, I’d think long and hard about walking the streets alone. But hey, that’s just me…"

  Bill had a point Kyle thought. Spending his nights in a cell wasn’t the worst thing to experience– unless it would make it easier for whoever did this to silence the witness. Kyle wondered if Bill’s opinion would change after he heard Tiny’s suspicion. Time would tell.

  "I guess you’re right Bill, a few more nights in the lock up won’t kill me."

  Ted drove all the way back without saying a word. Kyle thought it was odd, but then again, he thought Ted was odd already. Neither Kyle nor Bill noticed the attention he was paying to their conversation.

  As soon as they had a signal, Bill reported his findings to the sheriff and agreed to meet them back out at the scene in two hours. Kyle asked to come back out and Bill agreed it would be good to have him identify the vehicles and any recognizable remains. Ted’s shift was ending and he had plans afterward, so he declined to make the return trip. They dropped him off at Crimson Desert and drove back out to the crime scene to wait for the sheriff.

  One the way back, Kyle told Bill about Tiny’s visit the night before.

  "Bill, it sure sounds like Hank Caswell is behind this." Kyle said. "I mean Mark told me he was in danger, and now he’s dead! I’m not so sure spending my nights at the prison is a good idea. What I can’t figure out is how Hank Caswell and the Air Force are connected. But I know what I saw Bill: Dr. Moran’s car was driving along one minute, and a fireball the next!

  "And then my van was just gone! The blast knocked me into the gully. No warning, no whistling, nothing. Just there one minute, and a living hell the next. That’s Predators for you. I’ve been as close as I want to get to them, and let me tell you, I’m damn lucky to be sitting here today. Those things rarely miss, and when your numbers up… well, I’m just damn lucky is all."

  Bill didn’t know what to think, but he continued to say he was positive the military was not involved. "There’s just no way something like this could be covered up," Bill explained. "I’ve got a nephew that’s stationed over there. He tells me there’s video of every flight, especially the training missions. Every launch is scrutinized, every kill, even in practice, every action is evaluated.

  "Live rounds are accounted for, that sort of thing. They take it seriously, son. They’re not playing in the Air Force, it's all business. There’s no cowboys at Randall, and that’s gospel."

  Despite his confidence and trust in the Air Force, Bill couldn't deny Kyle's version of events tracked pretty closely with what a military operation would look like, and that realization made him question even the military.

  "Of course that’s not to say you shouldn’t take precautions Kyle." Bill said. "Crimson Desert may not be the safest spot for you right now. But it’s the only one I can control. Even so, I’m going to arrange to get you a couple 'equalizers', just in case, okay?"

  "Thanks Bill. I can use all the help I can get right now. But as for the Air Force, I don’t have the same respect you seem to have," Kyle said, running the events of yesterday morning through his mind again. "I mean, they’re not perfect Bill. I remember my daddy telling me about the time when an Air Force bomber traveled clear across the country on a training mission, with supposedly dummy nuke warheads. Turned out the bombs the flight crew left unguarded on the tarmac were live nukes, not dummies! That’s a pretty big screw up if you ask me! Don’t get me wrong, I’m open to any explanation… its just, when you rule out all the possible stuff… the impossible is all that’s left!

  Kyle and Bill hadn’t been at the scene more than five minutes when the sheriff’s convoy arrived. Six cruisers, a forensic van, an excavator, a bulldozer, and a grader pulled off the road on both sides and waited for instructions. Bill walked over to the sheriff as he got out of his car and began to show him the trail that led back to the scene.

  Bill, Kyle, Sheriff Dan Glover, and six deputies followed the forensic team the short distance back to the site and began taping off the boundaries of the area. Two deputies went back to the road to set up a roadblock and direct the heavy equipment to the staging area. Meanwhile the department photographers swarmed the site recording any evidence that would be disturbed by the excavation.

  After an hour, the excavator crew had started working to open the site. They worked slowly for fear bodies might be buried in the area. They had nearly exposed the front of a car in its pit, when a military command vehicle drove around the roadblock and pulled off onto the shoulder.

  Colonel Bradford Chastain was the base commander at Randall Air Force Base, and was used to getting his way. As he approached the sheriff’s forensic van, a deputy under orders to secure the area stopped him. Colonel Chastain held his ground and loudly "suggested" he bring the sheriff over. As the deputy went to look for Sheriff Glover, three more military troop vehicles arrived and began cordoning off a larger area than had been taped by law enforcement.

  The sheriff was already headed to the road when the deputy found him, and both arrived back at the road to see the Colonel barking orders to his men to secure the entire area.

  "What’s going on here?" Sheriff Glover said in a voice loud and angry enough to stop all the activity.

  "Are you in charge of this operation?" Colonel Chastain said, spinning on his heel to face the sheriff.

  "That’s right," said Sheriff Glover. "We’ve got multiple fatalities out there and are collecting evidence right now. What’s the Air Force’s interest in all this?"

  Colonel Chastain scanned the area as he replied. "We have reason to believe we’ve lost a civilian assigned to the base, and a military vehicle… both have been missing since yesterday. This area is on base grounds; I’m taking charge of the investigation. You’ll need to clear the area immediately."

  "Not going to happen Colonel. Looks like we've got thirteen prisoners buried out there, and that trumps your claim. Besides, this is county land and we’ve got jurisdiction. We’ll cooperate, but the Sheriff’s Office will continue its investigation and recovery of evidence. Now clear these vehicles out of our way. Pull your men back to a half-mile from the scene. Please!" The tone in Sheriff Glover's voice conveyed his determination that the investigation would remain under his control.

/>   Sheriff Glover stood jaw to jaw with the Colonel and for a moment, neither man flinched. Then the Colonel turned, jumped into a waiting car, and drove off. Soon the other vehicles pulled back as well, and the standoff was over.

  The rest of the day was spent collecting evidence and recovering the bodies of seven victims. Each was taken to the Clark County morgue where they would be identified and next of kin notification would be carried out. Many of the bodies were so badly burned, the identification would have to rely on dental records from the prison.

  The sheriff’s men stood guard over the scene that night and would only allow traffic through under escort. Civilian workers at the base were the most inconvenienced, and the short stretch of road in the middle of nowhere got very busy around quitting time.

  When dawn broke the next day, there were fifteen cruisers parked and ready to move the expected traffic quickly through the area.