by P. A. Brown
Maybe the subpoena for the military records of the two men would give us the link we needed. Maybe Phil simply didn't want to take any more chances.
And just maybe my doggedness and refusal to let this thing go was going to kill the man I loved. There, I thought it.
I said the words, at least in my head.
I loved Jason.
I didn't want him to die. That was as simple as it was devastating.
I came screaming down the Conejo Mountains through Camarillo. I was on the flat plains above Oxnard where I had 285
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first learned about Lucy Chavez and her connection to the murders. I no longer thought she had sent the bird; it had come from Phil, sent in her name. As the initial revenge for what those men or men like them, had done to his daughter.
It must have eaten at him all those years that no one had done anything to stop Blunt or Dutton or the others. Too many of them were never brought to justice, slipping through cracks and getting off to continue wreaking their destruction on other innocents. How many others would Collins have killed if a confluence of events hadn't pointed us toward him and put Jason in jeopardy?
I didn't blame him for wanting those monsters dead. But Jason was as innocent as those kids. He shouldn't be collateral damage.
The Pacific Coast Highway and the ocean appeared on my left. Glimpses of it caught through the screen of trees showed a placid surface, full of colorful sail and power boats bobbing on the surface. In the distance a tanker glided toward the ports in Long Beach or San Diego, reminding me that this was one of the busiest shipping lanes in the U.S. Surely a boat the size of the Weeping Lady wouldn't be able to slip through.
I passed by Ventura and the Rincon and Red Mountains swelled on my right. Soon I'd be dropping down into Carpenteria. I passed oil donkeys, the ubiquitous drills that endlessly pumped oil, and round tankers that stored the crude squatting on the brown plain. Then I was through the flat wasteland of the tiny industrial city that hugged the coast.
Next stop Santa Barbara. One bonus: traffic out this way was light. I was able to fly by most slower vehicles with inches to 286
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spare when I darted back in front of them. I'm sure I left a lot of shaking people in my wake. I got Nancy back on the phone.
"What's going on?"
"They're still searching."
"Why haven't they found them?"
"They're doing the best they can, Alex. It's a big ocean and it looks like Collins isn't where he claimed he was going."
"He's running." I gripped the wheel so tight I wondered I didn't bend it. "Tell them to look harder. They have to be out there."
Neither one of us said what had to be on both our minds.
We might find them, but would Jason still be alive? I had to believe he was. I couldn't think of the alternative.
Another twenty minutes of torment and my phone trilled. I activated the headset. "Talk to me."
Nancy's voice was so long in coming that I though the connection had died. Then the words came, "They found the boat. The Weeping Lady. I'm sorry, Alex, Jason isn't on it."
"Do they have Collins? Is he in custody?'
"Yes, he is. They're bringing him in as we speak."
"Make him tell you what he did with him. Make him."
"They asked. He won't talk. But there were four people in the party, plus another employee, a Donald Reinhold. They were scheduled to spend the day at Anacapa Island. They've dispatched a cutter to check it out."
I thought hard and fast. It gave me a glimmer of hope that I immediately quashed. "No, he wouldn't do that. If he left Jason alive then he could testify. The ones he stranded, they 287
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won't know what was going on. He could claim an accident.
Who's going to doubt him?"
Nancy was silent for moment. Finally she spoke again. "I'll tell them that. But if he's not on the boat, where is he? If he was dumped into the ocean ... I'm sorry, Alex."
More silence that stretched like ground glass over my already frayed nerves. Nancy was back. "The Coast Guard says there is a missing Zodiac. They've already been to Anacapa and they found the abandoned passengers. No Zodiac there."
"So he must have abandoned it at sea with Jason in it.
Maybe to establish an alibi. He didn't kill him, he fled on his own in the Zodiac. Leaves him off the hook."
"The Coast Guard is bringing in a chopper. It can see more of the surface area than the boats can. The Zodiac comes equipped with an emergency broadcast system on it—"
"But it would have to be activated, wouldn't it? It's not going to go off on its own." I was minutes away from the marina. "How long before the bird gets there?"
"Ten minutes."
"I'll be there by then. Tell them I'm coming with them."
"I'm not sure they'll like that, Alex."
"I don't give a fuck what they like. I'm going up in that bird."
The brilliant orange Coast Guard helicopter was down on the hard-packed sand above the high tide mark. A crowd had gathered on the beach. The pilot had stayed inside, the rotors still powered up, rotating slowly.
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I'd never been in a helicopter before. I clambered in awkwardly and sat behind the copilot. The grim-faced pilot handed me a pair of headphones. I had always thought the headgear they wore was for communication. I quickly found when I didn't put them on right away and the pilot fired up the rotors that no, it wasn't to talk, but to protect my ears from the aural assault. The chopper vibrated and seemed to strain to leave the ground, then it surged free of the sand, skimming over the tops of swaying masts, so close, I was sure we were going to take out a few. Open water appeared below us and we raced over the waves. We were heading to where the Weeping Lady had been found. Apparently Phil had planned a run north. He refused to say where he had been going, but I didn't doubt for an instance he could have vanished there and made his way just about anywhere.
The Coast Guard had boarded and secured the boat and sent a launch team to Anacapa to retrieve the confused students.
We hovered briefly over the boat while the pilot talked to the Coast Guard response boat. After several agonizing minutes he nodded briefly and signaled we were flying north.
I scanned the surface of the water as we raced over it. I despaired when I realized just how big the search area was.
How could we hope to spot a lone man in, at best, a small craft in hundreds of square miles of water?
But giving up and despairing wasn't an option. The sun dipped down, sinking west. If we didn't find Jason by nightfall we never would, and this would change from a rescue mission to a body recovery. Already the temperature out there was 289
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falling. It might not reach freezing, but it would be more than cold enough to bring an unprotected body into a dangerous state of hypothermia.
I spotted it first. At first glance it was nothing more than a smear against a dark sea. But when we got closer I thought it was a solid object. I tapped the copilot and pointed toward it.
He pulled up his binoculars and swept the area. His thumb went up and my heart soared. The chopper swung toward it, dipping lower until we all had visual confirmation. The copilot was on the radio calling our sighting in.
It was a small inflatable black and gray dinghy that looked hopelessly tiny in the swells. I could make out a figure lying on his back in the rear of the thing. The wind from the rotors whipped the water into a frenzy of white froth, and Jason's shirt billowed in the artificial wind, but I could see no sign that he was even breathing. I was breathing for him, sucking in great drafts of air and willing him to move, to react to us.
To show me he was alive. Anything.
The helicopte
r hovered lower. The pilot shouted something and the copilot answered. It took me a minute to realize they meant to wait for someone to come out in a boat to effect a rescue. I shook my head violently.
"No," I shouted. "We have to get him out now."
"We can't. Someone would have to go down on a line and bring him up. You're not trained to do that." The pilot jerked his head at the other man. "He can't do it."
"I'll do it."
"Detective. I can't allow that. We wouldn't be able to bring you back up. You're not trained—"
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"Hook me up and send me down. You're not waiting for a fucking boat to come out and rescue him. He'll be dead by then."
They both argued, but I was adamant. I'd take the risks. If I failed then at least I had tried. Then it became a moot point when Jason started thrashing around in the small rubber craft. Water already cascaded over the low sides, and his violent actions brought more in.
"He'll dump that thing over," I shouted to the other two.
The pilot shook his head and shouted back, "Won't capsize.
Not unless the seas get a lot stronger."
"It doesn't mean he won't fall out," I muttered. Then I grabbed the copilot's shoulder. "I'm going down. We'll wait for the boat together."
Reluctantly the copilot pulled out gear, a thick rubbery suit that I pulled on over my clothes and a harness that strapped on my upper body and went around my thighs to keep it from slipping off. He handed me a simpler harness and explained what to do with it, "Get this strap under his armpits. Once it's in place hang on to him no matter what. He may panic, but do not release him. If he goes in the water, we won't be able to affect a rescue. Are you sure you want to do this? We can have the response boat here in ten minutes."
"I'm sure."
So they lowered me off the side. I struggled to see where I was going, to keep my eyes open against the wind from the rotors. The impact of the water was a jolt. That water was cold. My heart seized in my chest, and I struggled to keep breathing.
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I hauled myself into the dinghy and felt along Jason's throat for a pulse, but my fingers were so numb I couldn't feel anything. His skin was waxy and pale and his eyes were closed. Then I thought I saw them flutter. I took him in my arms, trying to transmit some of my own fading warmth to his shivering body.
His fist caught me unawares. It glanced off my left eye and slammed into my nose with a solid thunk. I reeled backwards with a startled ' umph' and grabbed his arm before he could do it again. His entire body went rigid, nearly jack-knifing both of us out of the shallow dinghy.
"Jason," I shouted, not knowing if he heard me or not.
"Stop it. Hold still."
I fought to get the strap around him. I got it secured and raised my thumbs up to the hovering chopper. I think the copilot flashed one back.
Now all I could do was wait.
Maybe it was only ten minutes. Maybe it was less. It felt like hours before the orange and white Coast Guard response boat hove into view. It cut its engines and glided to a stop beside us. They made quick work of getting us on board, wrapping both of us in thermal blankets. We huddled together on the rolling deck as the cutter roared and raced back toward shore.
I was shaking almost as much as Jason, but I wouldn't let him go, even when my stomach decided to remind me I wasn't a boat person. Only the fact that I hadn't had much of anything to eat over the last couple of days kept me from decorating the deck with the contents of my stomach.
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I scrunched as close to him as I could. His eyelids fluttered open again and for the first time he focused on me.
"A-Alex?"
I picked up his cool hand, holding it tightly. Wishing some of my warmth into him. Hoping he was strong enough.
"You're going to be okay."
"Thought I was dreaming..." Before I could respond his eyes slid shut and he lapsed back into unconsciousness.
An ambulance waited dockside. They bundled Jason into one and wouldn't let me in, instead directing me to a second ambulance. Then they raced off, lights flashing and sirens cutting through the crowds that remained around the marina.
I spotted Nancy but before she could force her way to my side the EMTs had bundled me into the back of the second ambulance and were following the first one. I was told to lie back and shut up, that I could talk soon enough after a doctor saw me.
I fell into an uneasy silence, lay back and watched lights flash across the ambulance windows. Nancy followed me, barely paused when she saw my by now swollen and blackening eye. She stood around while I was discharged from Emergency. I tried to see Jason. No one would let me know where he was. No one would even tell me how he was doing.
Finally Nancy dragged me out to her car and delivered me back to the marina to pick up my own wheels. I would have gone straight back to the hospital but she hung around and made sure I got on the freeway to Goleta.
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Jason had been quiet every one of the four days I visited him prior to today. Ever since he had come around from his exposure to both the cold and the ketamine Phil pumped him full of—again—he had rarely spoken. He would look at me when I entered the room and follow me with his eyes, but unless I asked him a direct question, he wouldn't talk to me.
He hadn't said much to Nancy either, when she interviewed him about Phil and what he had told him. She did say he revealed that there was another man, the one whom Jason had been taking to the boat when Phil caught them. Jason said Phil told him the kid ran away. Nancy seemed convinced Phil had killed him, and the only reason he hadn't done the same to Jason was that he meant to use Jason to throw suspicion away from him. I was inclined to believe Jason.
We'd had the harbor dredged every day since just in case, but to no avail. It's possible the currents and tides had been right that night, and Roger's body could have washed out to sea.
When I thought of how close Jason had come to sharing that imagined fate, I shivered. Nancy and I had canvassed the Vault and other area clubs looking to find anyone who might remember a boy recently in from Bakersfield but though we had a couple of 'maybes,' Roger remained a ghost. We had sent word to Bakersfield to look over their missing person's files, but I didn't hold out much hope. Another faceless runaway whose own parents didn't care enough to report him missing. San Francisco was put in the loop too, but without a better physical description or full name, no one could do much of anything. Phil's probably right, he's in the wind.
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I took some vacation time and spent all my spare time at the hospital until I became a fixture and the hospital staff took to greeting me by name and asking after Jason. Nancy came by once, but she could tell something wasn't right, and when I refused to talk she stayed away. Big things were going on down at the station. I heard rumors that Lieutenant Garcia was retiring. I guess I should have cared. I didn't. I rarely talked to anyone these days, except Jason At least I talked, even if he didn't. I guess I never really shut up. "We finally got those federal subpoenas for Blunt and Dutton. Turned out they served together in Korea. There were rumors flying around that they operated some kind of procurement ring for young Korean kids. I guess Dutton liked the boys, and of course Blunt was partial to little girls. They were drummed out of the service because of it, but neither of them was ever charged with pedophilia."
He listened, I knew he did, but he didn't respond. I kept talking.
"Get this, they got them for smuggling. Phil served over there too, in the Navy. We don't know if he ever met either of them there, but he may well have heard about them. They were quite the scandal until the military hushed it up. But when Blunt abused his daughter Lucy
, that was the last straw. The law let him slip away and he vanished. When he resurfaced last year, Phil didn't know until he applied to coach a Little League team at his granddaughter's school. Blunt didn't have a record. He'd never been convicted of anything.
Background checks never turned up anything. And of course 295
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using a phony name when he first approached the school about coaching kept him under the radar."
I sighed and rubbed the back of my neck, wishing he'd say something. Anything.
"So he was on the verge of being given the job when Phil saw him. He knew right away he was the monster who had abused his little girl. But he wasn't satisfied to make him lose the volunteer job. He decided he had to stop Blunt all together. He decided to kill him. I'm not sure I blame him.
But the rest..." I shook my head. "He went too far. Tried to frame you, then tried to kill you so no one would know what he had done."
I took his hand in mine. "I'm sorry about your friend, Jason. I wish I could tell you we'd find him, but I don't know if we can. We have the PD in Bakersfield checking on his ID.
If we get more, we'll give it to the San Francisco cops..."
He didn't answer me. After a while I left, promising to return.
The next day I made a trip down to L.A. I hated visiting the place, but what I wanted I couldn't find in Santa Barbara, and it was too special to order online. I needed to see what I was getting, to find the right one.
The Leather Crib was the largest bondage and fetish store in L.A. I was immediately assaulted by the rich odor of animal hide and cleaner. I spent far too much time studying assorted gear, fingering an exquisite braided cat-o-nine tails, wondering if Jason was ready to go to the next level. I tried to imagine it; Jason suspended by my cuffs, his back glowing pink, his cries for release growing more desperate with each 296
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