by Donald Wells
“The helicopter I was in crashed into an icy lake yesterday. By now, they must have called off any rescue attempts and listed me as dead. Do you hear me? My wife believes that I’m dead. She’s in mourning, suffering, because I’m locked away in here.”
Joe turned his hands palms up.
“I’m sorry, but what can we do?”
“Escape, the first chance we get,”
A set of keys rattled behind them and two men appeared wearing deputy uniforms. It was Fred and Barney. Barney carried sets of manacles, while Fred held a .357 Desert Eagle; the gun aimed at the stranger’s chest.
Fred spoke up.
“Listen you two, don’t give us any trouble. We’re gonna cuff your hands and feet, try anything, anything, and I’ll blow you away as soon as look at you.”
“Where are you taking us?” the stranger asked.
“You’re going before the Judge, Judge Maynard,”
Joe stood up with a smile on his face.
“A judge? A real judge? Hey that’s good, maybe we can straighten things out.”
“Turn and place your hands behind your backs, now!” Barney said.
Joe nervously eyed the stranger as the cuffs were being put on. Fred had the gun pointed right at the stranger’s chest, and would no doubt use it if provoked, fortunately, the stranger wasn’t reckless.
With their hands and feet secured, the two of them were marched into the back of a panel van with bench seats, where they took the short drive through what looked like deserted streets, the town was so quiet that it looked like a movie set.
The courthouse turned out to be an old-fashioned affair with columns and a statue of the blindfolded Lady Justice holding aloft her scale and sword. Joe took note that the scales looked a bit unbalanced and hoped that it wasn’t an omen.
The courtroom was paneled in dark oak and the wooden seats, jury box and bench matched the color of the paneling. There were already four men present, and Betty, along with two other deputies kept their guns on them. One of the deputies was huge, with arms thicker than Joe’s legs and a mean look on his bearded face.
The other handcuffed men were standing before a computer monitor that was sitting atop a table.
Fred and Barney lined them up with the other men, and a moment later, the judge walked out of his chambers.
The judge took his seat behind the bench and he was big one. Although fat, Joe could tell that there was muscle underneath and the man’s eyes reminded him of the stranger’s, only the judge’s eyes were more watchful.
Judge Maynard was about fifty, with a graying crew cut and a reddened nose, when he spoke, his voice boomed in a rich baritone that filled the large room.
“I’ve looked at all of the charges against you, against all of you, and I find you all guilty as charged.”
One of the other handcuffed men stepped forward and screamed at the judge.
“Are you crazy? What the hell is going on? My car broke down a mile from here and your deputy abducted me at gunpoint. I’m no criminal. My name is Ronald Kaiser, I’m a pharmacist in Derryville.”
The judge smiled at the man as he reached over and hit a switch, which caused the monitor before the accused to come on, six different ID’s came up on the screen.
Joe looked at the phony driver’s license and saw his face with someone else’s name. He read the name on the license that bore the stranger’s face and then whispered to him.
“Sans Nomen, is that your name?”
“No,” said the stranger, and his eyes narrowed as he stared at the judge.
The man who claimed he was a pharmacist pointed at the screen.
“Henry Holt? That’s not my name, and that picture, that’s the picture they took of me in my cell.”
The judge slammed down his gavel.
“Guilty! Deputies, take them away.”
The stranger stepped forward.
“What con game are you running here?”
The judge stared at him, but then shifted his eyes over to Fred.
“This is the one that nearly got away from you, ain’t it?”
Fred sighed. “Yeah.”
The judge leaned back and stared.
“Whoooeee! Look at them eyes, and people say I got mean eyes. This one is nothing but trouble looking for a place to happen, which normally would be a good thing, but you know what they say about too much of a good thing.”
The judge called over to the giant deputy.
“Dooley, give this dude a tune-up, in fact, let’s take the cuffs off and let’s see what he’s got.”
The deputy, Fred, smiled as he sauntered over.
“It’ll be my pleasure, your Honor.”
As Fred removed the manacles, the judge sent the other deputies a warning.
“If a miracle happens and this dude beats Dooley, no reprisals, you understand. Anyone that can beat Dooley would be worth a fortune to us.”
The deputies all nodded while snickering.
Fred chuckled the loudest.
“The dude ain’t got a prayer, Judge, hell, I’ve seen Dooley take on three guys at the same time and beat them all.”
“You got a point. Dooley, take it easy on the dude, huh? We need him alive.”
“Right,” Dooley said, as he walked over and stared at his opponent.
Joe looked on in trepidation, but then, he saw something in the stranger’s eyes, something as old as the devil and just as wicked, and he knew that the man named Dooley was about to pay for all the suffering, angst, and frustration, which had been levied upon the man standing beside him.
The giant pulled back his right arm in preparation to deliver a blow and the stranger hit him on the chin with an uppercut that was so powerful that it lifted the massive man off his feet, only to land him upon his back, atop what in a normal courtroom would be the defense table. Dooley twitched wildly for a second and then fell still.
As the deputies stared on in disbelief at what they had just witnessed, the stranger took advantage of their shock and sprinted for the hallway door that was to the right of the judge’s bench. As he reached for the doorknob, the judge brought up a 12-gauge shotgun and fired twice. The projectiles struck the stranger in the back and dropped him to the floor, where he let out a moan of agony.
Betty pressed two fingers to Dooley’s neck, moments later, she yelled over to the judge.
“He’s dead, holy shit, Dooley’s dead!”
And then she and the other deputies advanced on the stranger with blood in their eyes.
“Stay back!” the judge bellowed as he walked over and held the shotgun on the stranger.
The stranger reached back and picked up something from the floor, he then stared at it in confusion.
“It’s a bean bag round, non-lethal,” the judge explained. “You should thank me; I could have just as easily let one of my deputies kill you.”
The stranger stared back at him.
“I’ll show my appreciation someday.”
“And just how do you plan to do that?”
“When I kill you, I’ll make it quick.”
The judge shook his head.
“You’ve got balls the size of cat heads, I’ll give you that.”
As Fred and Barney dragged Dooley’s body from the courtroom, the other deputies put the cuffs back on the stranger, afterwards, they began herding everyone out of the courtroom.
The pharmacist yelled to the judge.
“No, please your honor, I don’t want to go back to that filthy jail cell.”
The judge smiled pleasantly at him.
“No worries, son, you’ll never lay eyes on it again.”
“Where...where are you taking us?”
The judge’s smile widened.
“You’re all going to prison—for life.”
And as the man began crying, the judge’s smile turned to laughter.
TAKEN! 22 — IMPRISONED!
Jessica awakened from a restless sleep, as the noise from the hallway roused her
.
It was Rob Stevens, and he sounded drunk as he stumbled about while singing an old love song.
Jessica stepped from the bed and grabbed her robe, to then walk to Rob’s doorway and look within.
He was seated on the edge of the bed, in his right hand was a nearly empty bottle of whiskey, and he was clad only in a pair of boxers.
As the dog came over to stand beside Jessica, Stevens took note of their presence and raised the bottle up in greeting. His face was slick with tears and his eyes dulled with sorrow.
“Hi, I’m sorry if I woke you. I was singing a song to Juliet, her favorite song.”
“How much have you had to drink?”
Rob looked at the bottle.
“Not enough, there’s still some in there.”
Jessica walked into the room and sat beside him, then she reached over, took the bottle, and set it upon the nightstand.
“Liquor is not the answer, Rob.”
“It helps; it helps me to forget.”
“Forget what?”
“What Juliet must have gone through as she drowned, the terror that must have gripped her. I can’t stop thinking about her, good or bad, and God help me, I want to. I want to lose myself, for just a little while I want to forget.”
Jessica took his hand and gave it a squeeze.
“I know what you’re saying. All I do is think about my husband. Inside my head is a constant drumbeat of questions that have no answers; it’s maddening.”
Stevens nodded.
“It is maddening, and I just want the pain to stop, if only for one night, if for one night I could feel good again.”
Jessica released his hand and caressed his cheek in sympathy.
An instant later, she found Rob’s lips pressed against hers as he took her in his arms.
She jerked her head back.
“No Rob, I can’t be that for you. I understand the loneliness, the pain, but I haven’t given up hope and I doubt I ever will.”
Stevens buried his face against her neck and Jessica could feel him tremble with need.
“Just one night,” he whispered. “One night where we can forget our loss and feel whole again,”
Jessica slid out of his embrace as she stood.
“I have to go.”
He called her name as she reached the doorway, and she looked back in at him. Stevens snatched the bottle off the table and gripped it with both hands as if it were a life preserver.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
“You’ve nothing to be sorry about; now try to get some sleep.”
Jessica closed his door behind her and walked back to her bedroom with the dog following along. After a moment of debating the need for it, she locked her bedroom door.
She returned to bed as the doubts and questions about her missing husband raced through her mind and soon she was weeping. After grabbing his pillow, she hugged it to herself in a desperate embrace as she whispered a plea into the night.
“Come back to me, wherever you are, whatever has happened to you, come back to me,”
With tears in her eyes, she drifted away to a fitful rest.
***
The following morning, Sarah Callaway marched into Chief Dent’s office and stood over him. She was carrying the file that the private investigator had given her.
“What are you doing about clearing my brother’s name?”
“Good morning, Sarah, and how are you?”
“I don’t have time for pleasantries, Chief. I want to know if you still think that Dave is guilty.”
“No, we’ve moved on to another suspect.”
“Rob Stevens?”
“No comment,”
“No comment, hmm? Well, I have something you can comment on, take a look at this picture.”
Dent studied the photo that Sarah removed from her file folder.
As he fell back in his seat in shock, Sarah grinned.
“You didn’t know about that, did you?”
“No, but it makes perfect sense, in an insane sort of way, and it’s the missing piece we’ve been looking for.”
***
Later that morning, Jessica came downstairs to find Rob Stevens gone and a note on the kitchen table. Sitting atop the note was the whiskey bottle. She picked up the note and read it.
I could try and blame this bottle for my actions last night, but we both know that the fault was all mine. Please forgive me?
Rob
Jessica smiled as she grabbed a pen and wrote one word onto the note.
Forgiven!
She told the dog goodbye, grabbed her purse, and walked to her car.
She drove to the police station. At the desk, she asked to speak to Chief Dent and as she waited, she noticed that the officers, clerks, and even the radio dispatcher, sent looks her way.
Soon, she was being escorted back to the chief’s office by Traci Vargas.
“We were just about to call you,” Traci said.
“Why, has something happened?”
“Yes, but I’ll let Jack explain.”
Jessica gripped Traci’s arm and stopped her, as she searched her face.
“Is it bad?”
Traci smiled.
“Oh no, honey, it’s nothing but good news, now let’s go see Jack.”
The chief greeted her with a smile and pointed at two items sitting atop his desk.
“Does anything there look familiar?”
As her eyes fell upon the items, she made a cooing sound and snatched them up.
“His wallet, his knife, where did you get these?”
“They were discovered in the pockets of his tuxedo pants, the pants were discovered lying atop a cliff on the banks of a river in Hamilton.”
“What? Only his pants?”
“There was a backpack lying beside them. We searched the area yesterday and found several wrappers from those chemical heat packs that hikers use. Our best guess now is that he somehow made it up to the riverbank and was tended to by a hiker. After that, we have no idea what might have happened to him.”
Jessica made a prayer gesture with her hands as she closed her eyes and whispered a question.
“Are you telling me that you now believe he’s alive?”
Jack walked over to her and clasped her hands in his.
“After looking at the scene, evaluating the evidence, yes, yes honey, I think your husband somehow survived, at least long enough to make it out of the water.”
Jessica’s scream of delight had the entire station house laughing with pleasure and Traci gave her a teary hug.
“What’s next?” Jessica said. “How do we find him?”
Jack motioned for her to take a seat while settling in behind his desk.
“We sent the backpack to the state lab and they found a print on the mirror inside the shaving kit. We’re waiting to hear back from them now. If we can track down the owner of that backpack, maybe he’ll know where your husband is.”
Jessica wiped at tears.
“Oh God, I’m so happy I’m crying, and I can’t wait to tell Rob, maybe this will cheer him up.”
“I think the last thing that Rob Stevens wants is for your husband to be found alive. I think he’s behind everything, and I think he did all of it so that he could get next to you.”
“Jack, that’s insane. The man is sick with grief over Juliet.”
“The man is a good actor. In fact, he even starred in a few drama club plays while still in college.”
“I didn’t know that about him.”
“Did you know that he was married before? He met his wife while they were both still in college.”
“I knew that he was married before, Juliet mentioned it once.”
“How have things been between you two? He’s been supportive, hasn’t he?”
“Yes he has, which is why I can’t believe that you suspect him.”
“The tragedy has brought you two together, not just to the point where you’re living under the same roof,
but also emotionally, soon, he’ll begin pushing against the boundaries of your friendship, his touches will linger, become more intimate, and eventually he’ll ask for more from you, which of course, would only be to ease the pain, your mutual pain. Has anything I’ve just said rang a bell?”
Jessica stared back at him.
“It can’t be Rob. Why in God’s name would he do this?”
“You’re the psychiatrist, tell me, what would make a man kill to possess a woman he barely knows?”
“Well, it would most likely be a case of transference. The person who sent those notes to me, who attempted to kill my husband, he would have been clearing a path to me, but in reality, it would have little to do with me. I would simply represent something from their past, something possibly lost amidst tragedy, and they would see me as a way to regain the feelings that they once enjoyed.”
“Stevens first wife died in a fire, did you know that?”
“No, are you certain?”
“Yes, her name was Marie. She died when her dorm house caught fire; the college was near Steven’s home town, about a hundred miles from here.”
Jessica inhaled sharply.
“Oh my God, that only makes Juliet’s death more tragic.”
“Juliet was a sacrificial lamb, a means to an end, and so was Dave Callaway, the pilot of that chopper, and your husband. They all had to go in order for him to land where he is now, at your side, living under the same roof, and trusted.”
“What makes you so certain? So damn certain,”
Jack reached into his desk drawer and took out a copy of the photo that Sarah had given him, and then he handed it across the desk to Jessica. The picture showed a beautiful young woman walking along a corridor with a stack of textbooks in her arms. The woman was waving and smiling at whoever took the photo.
Jessica wrinkled her brow in confusion.
“Where did you get this? It looks like a picture of me when I was in college.”
“That’s not you. It’s an old yearbook photo of Rob Stevens’ deceased wife, Marie.”
“What? But she looks exactly...exactly... oh dear God,”
The chief nodded.
“Exactly,”
***
Weeks ago, and several hundred miles to the south
Judge William Robert Maynard stared out his office window at what was left of the town that bore his family’s name.