by Blink, Bob
None of this was good news. Jake decided he wasn’t ready for a lawyer. He still had hopes of getting out of this mess the usual way. On the other hand, he might have to go the lawyer route if they thought about moving him. He wasn’t sure where Chino was, but more than likely it was far enough away it would put him at risk of being out of range should his back-tracking ability return. He also didn’t want to worry Karin. Not yet, although she would start to get nervous if he didn’t contact her in the morning. He also wasn’t ready to answer many questions. If he ended up stuck here, whatever he said truly could be used against him. This was not at all what he was used to.
“I haven’t decided on whether I want a lawyer as yet. I assume I can decide that at any time?”
Keller nodded. “You can elect to terminate this interview at any time.”
Jake nodded that he understood.
The detective turned on a recording device and began the questioning. “Your name?” Keller asked him for the second time.
Jake thought about it. Finally he decided it couldn’t hurt. “My name is Jake Waters.”
“Truthful answer,” the detective said. “Good. That’s what your identification says and a quick check of your on file record supports it. Your military service provided a quick match. The second identification we found appears to be phony. The history is too brief. It’s not something that would surface under a normal credit check, but under these circumstances it didn’t stand up. It’s interesting that you would have something like that. Would you like to explain it to me?”
Jake shook his head.
“I didn’t think so. We’ll come back to that.”
“Why would Jake Waters from Sparks, Nevada be here in California to kill one of our respected politicians?”
Jake didn’t say anything.
“Look, there is little point in denying you killed him. You were captured at the scene and the man’s wife witnessed you shooting him. The question is why.”
“I don’t admit to killing him, but you should do a little checking. The man isn’t what he appears and is tied in with the local criminal element.”
“I see. Can you provide specifics?”
Unfortunately Jake couldn’t. “Just do a little checking. It’ll become apparent easily.” That’s what Cheryl’s brother had told him. It had taken less than a day or two for the police to uncover the man’s unsavory dealings after he’d killed Cheryl’s mother.
“Did you know Mr. Green?” Keller asked.
“No. I’ve never met him.”
“Have you had dealings with him? Business? Criminal? Why would you be sure he is involved in criminal activities?”
“I’ve never seen the man before tonight. I don’t know him at all.”
“Then what reason did you have to kill him?”
“None. I didn’t kill him.” That was an obvious lie, and Keller frowned in annoyance.
Many more questions followed. Jake quickly realized he shouldn’t answer anymore. He hoped to simply ride through the interview and go back to his cell and sleep. After about ten minutes, Keller reached over and turned off the recorder.
“This is a waste of both our times. You don’t want to explain what happened, which only tends to support my belief you are guilty. I’m going to have you sent back to your cell while I talk with my supervisor. I think the best think is to arrange for you to be transported to the detention center. This isn’t the place to keep you.”
Jake tensed. That wasn’t good.
“I’ve been thinking. Perhaps I do need a lawyer.”
Keller leaned back in his chair. “I see. Is there someone specific, or do you want a public defender?”
Either would accomplish what Jake wanted, which was a delay in moving him. But, assuming his condition didn’t resolve itself, he would be better off with someone who might actually be able to help him. Also, his own lawyer would be a better means of getting word to Karin.
“I have a business lawyer. I would like to call him and have him direct me to someone for this situation.”
Keller pursed his lips. “Do you know the number, or will you need help locating it? It is getting late in the day. I doubt your lawyer will be at his office.”
“I know his home number,” Jake said.
That caused Keller to raise an eyebrow. “Okay, I’ll be back in a minute with a telephone.”
The call lasted almost ten minutes. Jake’s long time business lawyer was shocked to hear of the situation. He personally was not qualified to help Jake, but his firm had contacts in the Los Angeles area and would have someone sent down to the station. It would probably be in the morning. He assumed that money wasn’t an object. He knew, after all, a great deal about Jake’s financial status. Before they ended the call, Jake asked him to contact Karin in the morning to explain the situation and provide his location. Jake didn’t want to tell her, but couldn’t see any alternative. She would be equally concerned if she didn’t hear from him in the morning, so this way she could at least be prepared to tell Cheryl and Zack what had happened. Afterwards, Jake’s lawyer talked briefly with Detective Keller.
“It appears you will be enjoying our hospitality tonight,” Keller said after he hung up the phone. “You have missed dinner, but I’m sure something can be rounded up. I’ll have you escorted back to your cell. We’ll talk again tomorrow after you’ve seen your lawyer.”
When Jake was led off, Detective Keller picked up his papers and headed upstairs to see his supervisor. He knew his supervisor would sign off on this one.
Ten minutes later Jake was back in a cell, but this time it was a much smaller cell which he had to himself. There was a narrow cot with a thin mattress and a pair of gray blankets. There was also a stainless steel sink and toilet along the opposite wall. While he was adjusting to the new location, someone handed him a plate of cold chili and a bottle of lukewarm water through the bars.
“Enjoy,” the man said, then walked away.
Jake sat and ate. He would like to have something for his head, but suspected there was little point in asking. His comfort didn’t appear to be very high on anyone’s priority list around here. After he finished eating, he slid the plate through the opening onto the floor outside the cell, placed the half bottle of remaining water where he could reach it from the cot and laid down and tried to sleep. No amount of conscious searching gave him any sign that his ability was returning. Depressed, he tried to sleep, but that was interrupted when they came to get him for the booking process.
Rumpled, tired, and with a still tender head, Jake finished responding to the questions he felt he could answer for the well dressed lawyer who had come to see him a little over an hour ago. The lawyer was not at all happy with Jake. It was obvious that Jake had committed the crime, just as it was obvious he wasn’t telling the lawyer what he wanted to know. Some of it Jake simply couldn’t tell the man. They’d have him committed. He tried to explain what had been going to happen without supporting the discussion with how he’d known these things. They had reached the end of the allotted time for the first interview, which was just as well given the somewhat adversarial relationship that was developing.
Detective Keller knocked at the door and then without waiting for a reply, stepped into the interrogation room where Jake and his new lawyer had been talking.
“Hopefully you two have come to some kind of understanding?” Keller asked. “Is there anything you would like to tell me and are you ready to return to some of my questions?”
“My client has nothing to say at the moment,” the lawyer said firmly.
Keller nodded. He had expected nothing less. “That’s what I expected. Then I have something for the two of you to consider. As I explained to your client yesterday, we were interested by the fact he was carrying identification in two different names. Last night I faxed his identification papers, along with his prints and picture to the police department in Reno. I was curious if there was any kind of a local history. Someone up there is on the
ball. Apparently they have been looking for someone else. A pilot, with a different name. The photo of your client wasn’t too unlike the general description of the man they have been looking for. Whoever it was that received my inquiry, he had a copy of your client’s photo taken out to a local airport facility where he was positively identified as a Mr. Mathews. That means he has three identities we know about now. Very curious. Makes one wonder how many more are out there and why? Even more important, the FBI has been contacted. They are very interested in talking with your client. In fact, they have insisted in having him transferred into Los Angeles. There is a facility where they hold federal prisoners up near the federal buildings in downtown LA. I’ve made arrangements for Mr. Waters to be moved this afternoon. You will be able to see him again there. Since there are no questions you are willing to answer at the moment, I’ll leave you in the hands of the FBI for now. Later, when you are feeling more cooperative, perhaps we will meet again.”
Jake felt suddenly ill. Downtown Los Angeles was too far. If his ability didn’t return before he was moved he was in big trouble. He would be too far away to back-track from LA to Laguna Beach.
Chapter 30
Jake had no control over his situation. He was a prisoner, a suspected murderer, and subject totally to the whims of the various organizations that were responsible for the kind of person he was thought to be. The Feds wanted him in LA, so to LA he would be sent. Later in the afternoon he was extracted from his cell, chained and hobbled, and taken outside where he was placed in an official vehicle. An hour and ten minutes later he was in downtown Los Angeles being processed into the federal facility just off the 101 freeway. Jake still could not sense himself, so there had been no opportunity to escape the madness. Now he was almost fifty miles from Laguna Beach, which was well outside the range at which he would be able to back-track. If his ability returned, and there was as yet no sign it was going to, he was too far to be able to reach his earlier self.
In other ways the transfer wasn’t so bad. To start with, they sent him to an infirmary, where the damage to the side of his head was examined and cleaned once again. A spot of his hair was carefully removed, and a better bandage was applied. He was told he could shower and wash his hair, so long as he was careful. The area was still surprisingly tender, so Jake had no fears about being overly aggressive. Next he was taken to a shower, and area for those being processed in as opposed to the community showers he would discover later. After a long, warm shower during which time he was able to wash the last of the blood out of his hair and off his neck, Jake was issued an orange jumpsuit imprinted with a number. His own clothes had disappeared while he was washing. He had a pair of soft orange sandals to wear as well as a pair of off white jockey shorts and socks. Once he was dressed he was led off to a cell.
The cell was private, and about twice the size of the one he’d had in the Laguna Beach police station. He had a bed that was wider, but no more comfortable, a nightstand with a single drawer, and the usual stainless steel sink and toilet. An hour after he had settled into the cell, he was made to join a line of other prisoners who marched down the hall to dinner. It was warm, adequate, and filling. Then he was marched back to his cell and locked in for the night. No one had talked to him directly since he’d first been placed in the cell. No official seemed interested, and the other prisoners looked at him with curiosity, but thus far had refrained from speaking to him.
Exhausted and mentally stressed, Jake lay on the cot in his cell. He tried to think through what his options might be, but his thoughts came slowly as if they had to crawl through thick mud. No amount of careful searching revealed any improvement in the area that mattered most to him at the moment. By the time he fell asleep, he’d made only one decision of any importance.
Mornings started early, and by seven AM he was fed and back in his cell. He sat, then stood and paced around the small cell. He had nothing to read, not that he could have, and nothing to do. He lay back on the cot for a while, then repeated the cycle. Just before nine AM, one of the guards came for him, stopping outside his cell, and signaling to someone to unlock and open the door.
“Come with me,” the guard directed. He was a forty year-old veteran of the system and looked tired and bored with his job. He looked at Jake to decide if he should expect any trouble from him, but otherwise showed no interest in him.
Jake stepped out of his cell and walked ahead of the guard in the direction indicated. He assumed they were headed to another interrogation room, and was therefore surprised when he was escorted into a smaller room with a chair and a thick plexiglass window across the front. Waiting on the other side of the window was his lawyer and Karin. Her hand went to her mouth when she saw Jake escorted into the room.
Jake couldn’t help but notice how fantastic she looked as he slid onto the stool adjacent to the plastic window. He couldn’t smell or touch her, the window prevented any real contact. However, there was a metal grillwork with a two way voice activated speaker so they could talk.
“Jake, you look horrible,” Karin said. “What happened to your head?”
“Cheryl’s mom cold conked me with a flower vase,” Jake explained. “She didn’t understand what was going on. After she hit me, she called the police. I was still out when they arrived.”
“Why didn’t you . . .”
Jake quickly shook his head cutting her off. He didn’t want any mention of his back-tracking in here. It was potentially his one ace in the hole, assuming the ability returned. Even if he were ready to reveal the ability, it would be silly to bring it up now when there was no way to demonstrate what he could do. They’d consider him a fruit-loop.
“Bad headaches from being hit,” he said. “I can barely concentrate, let alone anything else. I’m unable to do what I’d like.”
Karin’s eyes widened, and Jake was sure that she understood what he was implying.
“Jake, what are you going to do? They are saying you murdered Cheryl’s stepfather. Her mom is a witness.”
“They have it wrong. It was self defense,” he said trying out the story he’d decide to pursue. He couldn’t very well claim he didn’t actually fire the gun. There was an eye witness and other evidence to the contrary. “When he saw me he started to shoot me. I had no choice but to shoot first. I had hoped to wound him, but the shot killed him instead.”
This was total bull. No one with any experience ever tried to wound or shoot to disarm an individual demonstrating the intent to use a weapon on you. You shot for the center of mass to disable. Usually that meant kill, as it had in this case. Jake had made the shot on instinct, doing what he’d been taught in several courses on the matter. He’d actually screwed up, since he’d fired a single shot. He’d been taught to shoot twice at a lone assailant. It wouldn’t however, help his case to say as much here.
“Do you think you can convince them of that?” she asked doubtfully.
“That’ll be my lawyer’s job. Can you explain to Cheryl what happened?”
Jake knew that sooner or later they would learn that Jake was a close friend of Cheryl. That would confuse matters more. It was important that Karin explain to Cheryl what had caused the current set of events to transpire, including the fact her stepfather had initially killed her mother. There would be nothing they could do with the information, but Jake wanted Cheryl to understand.
Karin nodded, and Jake could tell by the look she gave him that she fully understood his intent. “They’ll be back from Australia tomorrow,” she said. “I’m supposed to meet them at the airport. I’ll make sure she understands. I’d guess they will fly down here.”
“There’s more,” Jake said. “The FBI had me moved up here. Apparently they think I’m also some character named Mathews. He’s being investigated for something else. Hopefully that will work itself out soon enough and I’ll be sent back down to Laguna Beach.”
Once again he could see that Karin understood. At least the significance of the Mathews name. He wasn’t sure she�
��d caught onto the importance of his being located so far from the beach city.
“What can I do?” she asked. He could tell she was struggling to hold it together.
“Go home. There is nothing you can do here. I’ll talk with you on the phone. They allow a single monitored call each week. There’s no point of sitting in a hotel room day after day.”
Jake made a point of emphasizing the word monitored.
They were able to talk only a few more minutes before their lawyer indicated the allotted time was up. Jake watched helplessly as Karin stood, gave him a sad wry smile, and walked to the door at the other end of the room. Moments later she was gone.
Jake looked at the lawyer waiting for him to say something.
“We’ll talk later,” the man said. “Not here. This area is monitored. We will talk in the area set aside for private attorney-client discussions.”
Jake nodded, then turned when he heard the door behind him opening. The guard motioned for him to come, so Jake stood and followed the guard out the door. They walked down the hall where he was directed into an interrogation room as he’d been expecting initially.
“Over there,” the guard said. “Your lawyer will be here in a minute as will the special agents who want to speak with you.”
Jake sat where he’d been directed, facing the door of the room. Moments later his lawyer came in and sat next to him, placing a thin, expensive, leather briefcase on the table to his right. Before they could speak, the door opened again and a man and a woman stepped into the room, closing the door behind them.
Jake had never seen either of them. The man was dressed as Jake would expect an FBI agent to appear, and he had a feeling that this was Special Agent Carlson that he’d heard about when he’d been detained in Reno. The woman was older, perhaps ten years or so, and not unattractive. She had short brown hair and wore a conservative woman’s suit with a dark skirt. Jake guessed that she was one of their lawyers. They pulled back chairs on the opposite side of the table and sat.