Jack was still living in Culpepper and would be for at least several more months. In the aftermath of Professor Thornton’s sudden death, and the resulting scandal that followed, the History Department at Culpepper was scrambling to put the fires out. Jack offered to finish out his lecture series in Thornton’s classes, as agreed, and even to finish teaching the rest of Thornton’s classes for the semester. The school instantly accepted.
Jack’s agent didn’t like the idea. She was afraid Jack would fall behind on his writing deadlines. Jack didn’t care. He said yes for one reason only: to get to spend more time with Rachel. They walked hand-in-hand through the police station’s front doors. Jack’s arm and shoulder were still very tender from the gunshot wound, but they were healing nicely.
Officer Hank Jensen met them in the lobby. “Hey guys, Sgt. Boyd’s on the phone but he should be off shortly. I’m supposed to take you into an interview room where you guys can chat.” He started walking down a hallway, and they followed. After a few more turns to the right, he pointed toward an open doorway on the left. “Can I get you a cup of coffee or bottled water?”
“Water for me,” Jack said. He’d already had a perfectly brewed cup this morning. Why ruin the memory now?
“Me too,” Rachel said.
“Be right back.” Hank left the room.
Jack reached for Rachel’s hand on the table. “How’s the unpacking going?” Rachel had moved to another apartment. After Mary’s death, she just couldn’t stay there anymore.
“I’ve only got a few more boxes to go, then I’ll be done. How about you? Are you nervous?”
“About this? Not really. Are you?”
“A little,” she said, “I don’t know why.”
Sgt. Boyd had already told Jack that he wouldn’t be facing any charges. Even for stealing Jameison’s jump drive. Boyd was going to explain why today.
Jack stroked her hand with his thumb. “I’ve been kind of looking forward to this little talk. I still have so many questions about what happened.”
Sgt. Boyd walked into the room carrying a large mug. Hank Jensen was right behind him with the waters. He set them down and left the room, closing the door on his way out.
Boyd greeted both of them, shook their hands and sat down. “How’s your shoulder healing up?”
“Doing pretty good,” Jack said. “Wakes me up sometimes when I roll over on it.”
“I guess after what you’ve been through, if that’s the only problem you’re having in your sleep, you’re coming out ahead.”
Jack smiled.
“Well, I’ve got a lot to get to today, and I’m sure you two are plenty busy. So let’s get right to it. Thought I’d start off mentioning none of this is being recorded. Everything that’s said here is totally off the record. Is that okay with you?”
“Fine,” Jack said. Rachel nodded.
“Let me tell you why right up front. I mentioned, Jack, when I called that you wouldn’t be facing any charges for stealing Dr. Jameison’s jump drive from his office. The reason is…Jameison is dead. When he saw all the evidence stacked up against him, he knew we had an open-and-shut case. So he put a gun to his head. That pretty much made all our problems go away. With him dead, Nigel Avery dead, and the professor dead, there’s nobody left to put in jail.”
Jack took a swig of his water bottle. “You mentioned, with all the evidence stacked up against him. Was there anything else besides what was on the jump drive? I was even concerned it might be inadmissible, because of the way I…acquired it.”
Boyd leaned back in his chair. “There was plenty of other stuff. For starters, we found a DVD Thornton had made that spelled out everything. Looks like he made it the morning before he died. Then at the cabin, we found a digital recorder in Thornton’s bed. Looks like he turned it on when Avery broke in and attacked him. Captured the whole thing. It gets even better. We found a surveillance van Avery had been using while he was in town. He recorded everything, including his detailed conversations with Jameison. Oh, by the way, you’ve got some electronic bugs in that apartment of yours, and on that landline. Not that anyone’s listening anymore, but thought you should know.”
“That’s kind of creepy,” Rachel said.
“You can hire somebody to get rid of them,” Boyd said.
“You mind if I ask what’s gonna happen to the jump drive I got from Jameison? Specifically, the content on the drive?”
“I don’t mind. Turned it over to the FBI. I told them what you told me about your crazy dreams, about what you said the drug Jameison invented was capable of. They seemed very interested. I’m sure they found plenty of samples and other documents on this drug when they raided Jameison’s office. I wouldn’t be at all surprised if they contacted you for a firsthand account. You’re one of the few people still alive who’ve actually used it.”
Rachel leaned forward on the table. “But what about the newspapers and what they said about who was responsible for killing my friend Mary and Professor Thornton, for that matter? And what about Ralph Riesner and Jared Markham? This drug is really responsible for their deaths, too. The papers blamed some drifter named Arnold Shepherd. Who is that?”
Boyd sighed and leaned forward in his chair. “Now we’re getting to the main reason why I wanted this meeting off the record. The guy who shot you, Jack. The man responsible for these killings here in town, told me his name was Nigel Avery. But he said something that made me think it wasn’t his real name. We found ID’s for several more aliases in his van. Once the FBI got involved, we talked it over. The agent in charge said they were pretty sure this guy was a former special ops guy, former CIA. But seeing that he was dead, and so were all the other guys we might have indicted, we decided not to press it. We had plenty of incriminating evidence to prove what happened, but no one to arrest.”
“That doesn’t seem fair to the victims’ families,” Rachel said.
“It’s not,” Boyd said. “But in a way, justice was served. All the men responsible are dead. The official reports will show them as responsible, so all the families can hire civil attorneys to sue their estates. I’m sure there’s plenty of money in Dr. Jameison’s coffers. Maybe some in Professor Thornton’s, too. I wouldn’t be surprised if the University didn’t take a hit over this.”
“Well, at least that’s something,” Jack said.
It seemed that Sgt. Boyd was all done with this briefing. “You guys have any more questions?”
“Nope,” Jack said. Rachel shook her head no.
“Are you okay with everything I said? Have any problems with it?”
“Not at all,” Jack said. “I’m relieved. I was dreading the thought of having to spend months dealing with all the legal issues, maybe having to testify at Jameison’s trial.”
“If Jack’s okay, I’m okay,” Rachel said.
“Great,” Boyd said. “I’m so looking forward to getting my little town back to where it belongs.”
60
Later that night, Jack arrived back at his garage apartment on Rambling Road at about 10:30. He and Rachel had spent a wonderful evening together, starting with an exquisite dinner at River Bend restaurant, followed by a romantic movie at a local theater. Both had to be up early tomorrow for classes, so they ended the evening early.
As Jack sat on the sofa, he reflected on the things he’d learned at his meeting with Boyd. He spent the most time thinking about Professor Thornton. The betrayal still stung a bit, though for the most part, Jack felt sorry for the man. What his life had become, how it ended. He didn’t want to dwell on the situation too long. There was no fruit in regret. Nothing to be gained by living in the past.
Well, he thought, almost nothing.
He leaned forward on the couch and looked at three things he had laid out on the coffee table. A quote from an old Humphrey Bogart movie went through his head, from The Maltese Falcon.
The stuff dreams are made of.
There was a bottle of wine, a wine glass, a TV remote and a D
VD documentary about a daring mission that took place in the Pacific theater during World War II. The mission was flown by a squadron of P-38 Lightnings. Most WW2 buffs who knew about fighter planes, favored the P-51 Mustang. It was a great plane, but Jack had always liked the P-38 best.
It was now a very rare warbird, only a handful of them left in the world. Jack had seen one years ago at an airshow, only once. He wondered what it must be like to fly it. Of course, he knew he’d never get that chance.
Until now.
He looked at the bottle of wine on the coffee table. It was one of two Professor Thornton had given to him. Both had been laced with that colorless, odorless, tasteless drug Dr. Jameison had created.
The drug really was harmless, after all. Ralph Riesner had died because he took it then watched a horrific slasher film before bed, causing him to endure perhaps the most dreadful nightmare any soul had ever experienced. That, and his heart defect were really the things that killed him.
Jared Markum had committed suicide because he had been studying about the Holocaust in-depth. His drug-induced dreams had placed him in the role of a Nazi SS officer participating in the atrocities committed against the Jews. Apparently, he couldn’t get the guilt he felt, or those images out of his mind. Besides that, his girlfriend really had dumped him.
Again, the drug itself hadn’t actually killed him.
Now that Jack knew he wasn’t going mad, that the dreams could be controlled, he had begun to long for the thrill of his dream experiences again.
He sat there on the edge of his sofa, feeling a bit like the codename Jameison had given him: Bre’r Rabbit. In that Uncle Remus story, after Bre’r Rabbit had been captured, he begged Bre’r Fox and Bre’r Bear not to throw him into the briar patch. Of course, they did, thinking it was the thing he feared most.
Actually, it was just the opposite.
Bre’r Rabbit wanted to be thrown in the briar patch. Part of the moral of the story was: A place others dreaded became the place Bre’r Rabbit most longed to be.
Jack poured himself a glass of white Zinfandel and sipped it nice and slow. Then he popped in the DVD, the one with the secret World War II mission where a squadron of P-38 fighters had been dispatched to intercept and shoot down a Japanese admiral’s plane. The same Japanese admiral who had orchestrated the attack on Pearl Harbor.
# # #
An hour later, Jack finished the DVD and his glass of wine. He yawned deeply, the third time in the last hour.
It was time.
Jack turned the TV off, turned the lights out and plopped down on his bed. He’d always wanted to fly a P-38.
As he drifted off to sleep, he couldn’t restrain his smile.
Acknowledgments
There are a few people I absolutely must thank for helping to get When Night Comes into print. Starting with my wife, Cindi. Not just for her encouragement and support. Over the years, her editing skills have grown to where the editors at my publishing house requested I not send in a manuscript until she’s had a chance to go through it. On this novel, I promoted her to senior editor. She provided excellent help on edits with the storyline and characters.
I want to also thank my great team of Beta readers, all who caught many things Cindi and I missed, even after several passes. Thank you Terry Giordano, Patricia Keough-Wilson, Tonya Brown and Sarah Bulls.
I also must absolutely thank my friend and fellow author John M. Wills. John spent the better part of his life protecting and serving fellow Americans, first as a police officer in Chicago then with the FBI. John helps me get things right on police matters in my novels, not just in When Night Comes but several others. Besides his books, John also writes book reviews for the New York Journal of Books, and he writes monthly articles on Officer.com. Check out his books on Amazon.
Want to Read More?
Want to read more of Dan Walsh’s novels?
Since 2009, Dan has written over a dozen other novels, mostly for the inspirational or Christian fiction market. All of them are written in a similar style, with character-driven storylines, page-turning suspense and a strong romantic thread. But most of these novels are a little different from When Night Comes. Most have a stronger spiritual theme or message woven into the story.
But if you mostly like reading suspense novels, Dan recommends these two as the most similar to When Night Comes:
The Discovery - http://amzn.to/1qMoqLG
What Follows After - http://amzn.to/NUdQSt
To get a sneak peek at Dan’s other novels or see what others are saying about them, click on this link, then click the book cover you’re curious about:
http://www.danwalshbooks.com/books/
Want to Help the Author?
If you enjoyed reading this book, the best thing you can do to help Dan is very simple—tell others about it. Word-of-mouth is the most powerful marketing tool there is. Better than expensive TV commercials or full-page ads in magazines.
Dan would greatly appreciate you rating his book and leaving a brief review. Even a sentence or two will help.
You can create a review for When Night Comes on Amazon right here:
http://amzn.to/1xNat4G
About The Author
Dan Walsh was born in Philadelphia in 1957. His family moved down to Daytona Beach, Florida in 1965, when his dad began to work with GE on the Apollo space program. That’s where Dan grew up.
He married, Cindi, the love of his life in 1976. They have two grown children and three grandchildren. Dan served as a pastor for 25 years, then began writing fiction full-time in 2010. His bestselling novels have won many awards, including 3 ACFW Carol Awards (Book-of-the-Year) and 3 Selah Awards. Three of Dan’s novels were finalists for RT Reviews Inspirational Book of the Year.
If you’d like to get an email alert whenever Dan has a new book coming out, or a special deal on one of Dan’s books, you can click on his website below and sign up for his newsletter. From his homepage, you can also contact Dan or follow him on Facebook or Twitter.
http://danwalshbooks.com
Table of Contents
RANDOM ACTS OF MURDER CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9
CHAPTER 10
CHAPTER 11
CHAPTER 12
CHAPTER 13
CHAPTER 14
CHAPTER 15
CHAPTER 16
CHAPTER 17
CHAPTER 18
CHAPTER 19
CHAPTER 20
CHAPTER 21
CHAPTER 22
CHAPTER 23
CHAPTER 24
CHAPTER 25
CHAPTER 26
CHAPTER 27
CHAPTER 28
CHAPTER 29
CHAPTER 30
CHAPTER 31
CHAPTER 32
CHAPTER 33
CHAPTER 34
CHAPTER 35
CHAPTER 36
CHAPTER 37
CHAPTER 38
CHAPTER 39
CHAPTER 40
CHAPTER 41
CHAPTER 42
CHAPTER 43
CHAPTER 44
CHAPTER 45
Other Books by Christy Barritt
About the Author:
MIRANDA WARNING Other Books by Heather Day Gilbert
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
Grandpa John L's Cornbread
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
THE WITCH TREE 1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
Other Books
STRANDED PART 1 Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Fatal 5 Page 139