Uncontrolled Spin: The Power and Danger of Spin ( Un missable Series Book 1)

by Jerry Summers

  Bonnie replies, “I love you, too. We are going to sleep a little since we both barely slept on the plane, then we plan on enjoying the pool and as much tequila as we want ;).”

  Mark chuckles, then replies, “Good night, my love. Enjoy each other’s company.”

  Bonnie responds, “Don’t work too hard this weekend. Kisses, goodnight.”

  Mark’s response is a typical “K.” Bonnie just groans and puts her phone in her purse.

  Mark awakens at seven o’clock the next morning, fixes himself a cup of French press coffee, and takes a seat on the deck. Once again, he marvels at the serenity and the glass-like appearance of the water. This morning, there are no disturbances to the lake’s surface, except for the same unmoving pontoon boat. Mark wonders if the boat was there all night or if one of the locals just enjoys being out on the water enough to get up and get out this early. He smiles a peaceful smile, takes his first sip of coffee, and a moment later he is dead.

  There is a slightly muffled sound as the suppressed .308 caliber round exits the barrel, and at almost that precise moment, it strikes Mark Stevens in the forehead, slightly above his right eyebrow. The sniper watches through the scope for the pink mist and listens for the telltale breaking of glass from the window of the living room as the round exits Mark’s skull, carrying with it the pieces of his brain. Scanning the deck, the sniper smiles as he surveys his handiwork. Mark slumps in the chair, the same peaceful smile still on his face. His coffee cup is lying sideways on the deck, devoid of its contents, and brain fragments and blood drip from the back of what was once his skull.

  The snipers folds the tarp he had laid down prior to the shot in on itself, successfully containing potential gunshot reside, and places it into his small duffel bag. Starting the pontoon boat, he slowly chugs across the water toward North Beach. In the middle of the area of the lake commonly known as the Narrows, he judges from his previous study of the topography that it is the deepest part of the lake. Unnoticeably, he slips the suppressed .308 rifle over the side and into the water. He watches it as it disappears from sight, resting assured that the murder weapon will reach the unfathomable bottom, some three-hundred-plus feet below the surface. He cruises around the islands of the Narrows and moors the boat back in its slip at the marina. He removes his latex gloves, placing them in his duffel bag, then picks the bag up and walks calmly to the vehicle he parked in the upper parking lot on Mill Street. He starts the vehicle and slips away in the early morning mist, completely undetected.

  Bonnie sends Mark a text wishing him a good morning while she and Jessica lounge by the pool, sipping mimosas. Bonnie doesn’t concern herself when Mark doesn’t respond immediately, figuring he might be engaged in work or lounging at the beach. Besides, Bonnie is engrossed in questioning Jessica about her feelings for Sean. Bonnie listens intently as Jessica wrestles with her emotions and words, attempting to describe her feelings.

  “A relationship between the two of us would never work,” Jessica says, fiddling with the bottom of her champagne glass. “We’re business partners for God’s sake—”

  At this point, Bonnie interrupts, saying, “That is such bullshit, and you know it, girl. I was Mark’s executive temp girl when we became romantically involved, and he was married at the time.”

  “I know, but you and I are so different in this area,” protests Jessica.

  “Look, sometimes in life you can’t control everything. Love, or lust, whatever you want to call it, has a way of popping up unexpectedly and changing your circumstances,” Bonnie explains.

  “But I’m not even sure I like Sean. I’ve seen what an asshole he can be. Just because he’s been charming recently doesn’t mean I should seduce him or start a relationship with him,” Jessica objects.

  “Why not?” Bonnie asks.

  “Just because,” Jess quips.

  “Are you physically attracted to him?” Bonnie asks. Then she adds, “And don’t lie to me, girl!”

  Jessica rolls her eyes and downs her mimosa. “Of course I am. You’d have to be blind and deaf not to be. But you already knew that, didn’t you?”

  Bonnie nods smugly. “I just don’t see any problem here. Sean is hot, and you are, at least physically, interested, so quit trying to protect your heart and fuck his brains out! If it turns out he is lame in the bedroom, at least you won’t have to question your decision any longer, and you won’t be disappointed if he doesn’t want more.”

  “But what if he’s not lame? What if he is an incredible lover and he still doesn’t want more? Then what?” Jessica asks, struggling to express herself.

  “Then for God’s sake, enjoy the sex. Lord knows you need it. And if it turns out he’s an asshole to you, dump his ass, or keep him around, at least for the sex, until something better comes along,” insists Bonnie.

  Jessica stands up, realizing she and Bonnie aren’t going to see eye-to-eye on this issue. “You are a disturbed woman; you know that, don’t you?”

  Then she turns and dives into the pool, swimming away as Bonnie yells after her, “Yeah, so what’s your point?”

  Sean’s jet lands in McCall just prior to eleven o’clock. He gets into his Jeep Cherokee Limited Edition, which remains parked at the airport when he is away, and drives the ten minutes to his house in the 2400 block of Warren Wagon Road. As he enters the house, he calls out to Mark, but doesn’t get a response. Sean throws his bag into the master bedroom and heads upstairs toward the living room, thinking Mark might be out on the deck. Sean can hear the radio playing, and as he reaches the top of the stairs, he sees that Mark is indeed sitting on the deck. At first, he thinks Mark might be sleeping, because of his slouched position. Then, as Sean takes in the broken window and the appearance of blood, he begins to get tingles of wariness.

  As he gets closer, Sean sees a large part of the back of Mark’s skull is missing. Gray matter is sprayed on the deck. The French press coffee pot is still on the table next to Mark, and his coffee mug has landed on its side on the deck. Sean gets a whiff of Marks blood and vomits right there on the living room carpet. Grabbing his cell phone, he shakily dials 911.

  The dispatch operator answers. “911, please state your emergency.”

  Sean replies, in a trembling voice, “M-my friend is d-dead.”

  The dispatcher asks, “What is your address? Is he breathing?”

  “No! He is fucking dead. There’s blood all over the place, and I can see his fucking brains on the deck!” Sean yells.

  “Sir, please stay calm. What is your location? Stay on the line with me while I get help on the way,” comes the dispatcher’s response.

  “2450 Warren Wagon Road, in McCall,” Sean responds, feeling the horror leeching out of him as the shock settles in.

  “Sir, what is your name?” asks the dispatcher.

  “Sean Green.”

  “What is your friend’s name, Sean?”

  “Mark Stevens,” Sean replies bitterly.

  “Do you see any weapons? Are there any weapons in the house?”

  “I don’t see any weapons, but yes, I have guns in the house,” replies Sean.

  “Where are they?”

  “They are downstairs, locked in the gun safe in the library.”

  “Okay, thank you, Sean. Can you please go outside and stand in the driveway until officers arrive? They should be there in five minutes or so,” the dispatcher pauses, and Sean hears computer keys clicking, “but please remain on the line with me, okay?”

  “Yes, I’m going. Please hurry,” Sean says, turning his back on the horror before him and walking back downstairs and out the door.

  “Can you describe what you’re wearing for me, so I can let the officers know who you are when they arrive?”

  “Well, I’ll be the only fucking one standing outside my house,” Sean replies coldly.

  The dispatcher almost sighs. “Sean, we assume that, but I need a clothing description for my records,” she says patiently.

  “Blue jeans, white shirt, a
nd running shoes,” Sean says on a sigh.

  Just then, two McCall police officers appear walking down the driveway. “Are you Mr. Sean Green?” one of them asks.

  “Yes,” Sean answers, taking his cell phone away from his ear and hanging up.

  The one who spoke nods. “Is there anyone else in the house, Mr. Green?”

  Sean shakes his head, unable to do more.

  “Okay. Will you please wait here while we clear the residence?”

  Sean simply nods.

  Returning after a few minutes, the officers explain that the agency in charge of the investigation will most likely be the Valley County Sheriff’s Office, and deputies should be arriving in about twenty minutes. They ask Sean if there is anything he needs out of the house, because most likely he’ll need to stay out of the house for several hours. Sean tells the officers he just arrived and threw his bag in the master bedroom before walking upstairs.

  One of them asks, “Was it the red canvas bag?” Sean nods, and the officer goes inside and retrieves it for him.

  After quickly searching the bag for weapons, he passes it to Sean. The cop then asks who the deceased person is, and Sean says, “One of my top clients and my personal friend, Mark Stevens. We were supposed to spend the weekend here in McCall working on some business strategies.” He pauses, his throat tight, then manages to say, “Mark got here yesterday afternoon.”

  “From where?”

  Sean clears his throat. “San Francisco.”

  The other officer chimes in. “Did you fly into Boise and drive up?”

  Sean shakes his head. “No. I have a jet. Mark used it to fly up yesterday, and then the pilot flew back to bring me up this morning.”

  There is some nodding. “And who is Mark’s next of kin? How can we contact them?”

  “Mark’s wife, Bonnie, would be the first. But she’s in Brazil with a friend at the Stevens’ villa for the weekend. That’s why my pilot had to make two trips, instead of Mark just taking his own jet… I’ll call Bonnie and let her know what’s happened as soon as I have a little more information. Please, don’t broadcast his name anywhere. He’s a very prominent businessman, and the press will be all over this soon enough,” Sean replies, regaining a little bit of composure.

  A marked Valley County Sheriff’s vehicle and another unmarked vehicle approach slowly down the driveway. A tall, blond man slightly overweight in plain clothes introduces himself to Sean as Detective Sergeant Keith Jones.

  “Mr. Green, I need to do a walk through and get some photographs, but I’ll be right back.” Sean nods.

  About thirty minutes later, other vehicles arrive on scene, and Sergeant Jones returns from inside the house. He asks Sean many of the same questions the McCall polices officers had already asked.

  After answering all of them, Sean asks the sergeant, “Did Mark kill himself in my house?”

  Sergeant Jones shakes his head. “I don’t believe so. This appears to be a homicide. Did you vomit in the living room when you saw him?” His voice holds tones of sympathy.

  Sean swallows as the bile starts to rise again and replies, “Yes I did. I have never seen anything so disturbing in my life.”

  Jones nods. “It happens to the best of us. Can I speak with you more formally, Mr. Green?”

  Sean watches people walking hurriedly around them for a moment, then nods. “Yes, of course. What do you need to know?”

  “Well, let me begin by informing you that you are not under arrest, and you are free to leave at any time. Do you understand?”

  Sean replies, “Yes.”

  “Okay,” Jones replies, and asks Sean to explain everything from the time he left San Francisco, periodically interjecting a question to clarify his understanding of the sequence of events. “The Sheriff’s department called the Idaho State Police for assistance with this investigation, since we don’t have the expertise to handle a homicide as serious as this. The house will be off-limits to anyone until the investigation is completed, which I anticipate will be at least a day or more.”

  Sean doesn’t mind. “I’ll get a room at the Shore Lodge and fly back to San Francisco tomorrow morning. I don’t know if I could stand to go back in there anyway. Can I call Bonnie while I’m speaking with you, so that if she has any questions you can answer them for her?”

  Jones replies, “Yes, that would be fine. I will need to speak with her in person, at some point.”

  Sean says, “We will make that happen somehow. I’ll make sure to schedule some time for the two of you to speak. Is it all right if I tell Bonnie that Mark has been murdered?”

  Jones considers. “I would rather have you call her and let me speak with her about that. Would you please get her on the phone?”

  Sean dials Bonnie’s number, then hands his phone to Jones.

  Bonnie answers with a jovial, “Sean, dear, how are things? Jessica and I were just talking about you.”

  Jones says, “I’m sorry, ma’am, this isn’t Sean. Are you Bonnie Stevens?”

  Bonnie answers cautiously, “Yes, I am. Who is this?”

  Jones clears his throat. “Mrs. Stevens, this is Sergeant Keith Jones from the Valley County Sheriff’s Office. Unfortunately, I have some bad news about your husband, Mark. It appears he was murdered, either late last night or early this morning. I’m so very sorry for your loss.”

  Jessica watches from the pool as Bonnie’s expression goes from happy, to blank, to shocked, and her phone drops out of her hand as she tips over in a dead faint. Jessica quickly gets out of the pool and yells for the staff to help her. They immediately start attending to Bonnie, fanning her and pressing a cool cloth to her face.

  Jess picks up the phone and says, “Hello?”

  Jones asks, “Mrs. Stevens?”

  “No, this is Jessica Silva. Bonnie fainted. What’s going on?”

  Jones looks at Sean and asks, “Who is Jessica Silva?”

  Sean reaches for his phone, and Jones allows him to take it back. “Jessica, is Bonnie okay?”

  Jessica replies anxiously, “Um, no, not really. What the hell is going on?”

  Sean is at a loss. “The Valley County Sheriff’s Department is with me. It appears Mark was murdered. I had just gotten to the house this morning and I found him on the deck.”

  Jessica’s mouth drops open as she gasps. “Oh my God, Sean. I’ll make arrangements for us to head back soon. How did this happen?”

  “He was shot in the head,” Sean barely gets the words out of his mouth before his voice breaks and he feels the bile start to rise again. Jessica feels the horror seeping into her stomach.

  Jones takes the phone back and says, “The investigation has just started. Mr. Green will be staying at the Shore Lodge tonight and heading back to San Francisco tomorrow. I will need to meet with Mrs. Stevens in a few days, and Mr. Green assured me they will be able to fly back to this area soon. Will you be able to join them?”

  Jessica replies, “Of course I will. Bonnie is my closest friend.”

  Jones thanks her and attempts to end the conversation. “We should have some more definitive information for everyone by then.”

  “Thank you, Sergeant. Oh, Bonnie’s waking up I think…”

  Sean has regained some of his composure and takes the phone from Jones. He hears Bonnie’s hysterics in the background. “Jess, why don’t you and Bonnie head back to San Francisco, and I’ll meet you at the airport.”

  Jessica returns to the phone from speaking soothingly to Bonnie. “No, it’s okay. Bonnie’s car is at the airport. I can drive her home. Why don’t you meet us at their house? Can you call the family doctor and ask him to prescribe something for me to pick up for Bonnie? She is a mess, and I suspect it’s only going to get worse.”

  “Yes, of course. Let me know when you’ll be getting back as soon as you can,” Sean answers. Jess agrees, and they terminate the call.

  Next, Sean telephones Evelyn, tells her about Mark, and asks her to have his pilot come get him tomorrow morning
at nine. Sean then asks if Evelyn can meet him at the airport and drive him to Bonnie’s house, since he plans on being thoroughly drunk by the time he lands in San Francisco.

  Evelyn replies, “Of course I can, but don’t you think you might need to be functional when you arrive, if for no other reason than Bonnie? You can always get completely drunk later.”

  Sean agrees, but says, “I’ll still need you to drive me tomorrow, probably. I won’t get trashed, but I’m also not going to drive if I’ve been drinking on the plane, which I do still intend to do.”

  Evelyn replies, “Of course, you got it. What about Mark and Bonnie’s cars?”

  Sean asks, “Can you arrange with Mark’s staff to pick up his car? Jessica said she will drive Bonnie’s home from the airport. And can you do me another favor?”

  Evelyn’s voice is sympathetic. “Anything, Sean.”

  “Please get the number for the board president of Global Metal Refining. I need to let him know immediately so he can handle the press over the next few days,” Sean says tiredly.

  Evelyn replies, “I’ll have it to you within the hour. I will also notify Jessica’s personal assistant, so he can clear her schedule as well. Sean, how are you doing?”

  There’s a long pause, and Sean finally answers, “I’m distraught, shocked, worried, and pissed all rolled into one big mess. I can’t believe any of this is real. Thank you for everything you do for me.”

  “Of course. Let me get started on getting the numbers for notifications. I’ll also have some flowers delivered to Bonnie’s before she gets home. I’ll notify her staff immediately. Everything is going to be okay, at least as far as I can make it.”

  Sean thanks Evelyn and hangs up the phone.

  Jessica goes into the villa to check on Bonnie and finds her sitting catatonically on the bed, staring out the bedroom window. She pauses; biting her lip, then walks into the room, sits on the bed beside Bonnie, and touches her leg.

  “I’m here, sweetheart. What can I do?” she asks quietly.

  Bonnie tips into Jess’s embrace and says, “Just hold me for now, please.”