Her plan had worked, help was on the way; the front hall was silent. She needed him to talk. She tried not to think about the notes he’d written. Many times she’d rehearsed what she’d say if she saw him again. She wanted to tell him how evil he was, how she hated him. None of that was going to work now. It was time to release him from her judgment. She knew he was going to kill her, she could feel it. She spoke first.
“Are you hurt? Is there anything I can get you?”
He refused to answer and continued to stare at her. She held his gaze, fighting her fear as the seconds ticked by. An unexpected string of expletives exploded from him. She jolted, her shoulders twitching. He called her every foul name he could think of as he blamed her for destroying him. He told her in exact detail, how he was going to get his revenge. She cringed inwardly. She did not respond verbally or show any indication his outburst had affected her.
Hang on. Help is on the way.
“You think those notes were a joke?” He stopped suddenly.
Travis looked like he was close to passing out. It was as if the outburst had drained him. His face slackened. His eyes no longer focused on her.
She picked up her coffee and held the mug with both hands as she sipped it. She trembled, unsure what to do. She could throw her coffee at him and run, he might not catch up with his lame foot. She shifted her weight a little. He snapped upright.
“Don’t move Jennifer. Don’t even think about it.” Holding her gaze, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a switchblade. The snap of the blade as it was released from it’s sheath shattered the air around them.
Now!
In one swift movement she flung the full coffee cup at him, jumped to her feet and ran to the front door. Pulling her keys from her pocket, she opened the door, slammed it, and locked it behind her. It wouldn’t buy much time, but it might be enough.
Which way? she thought as she looked around wildly, heart pounding.
“Jennifer,” a low voice snapped. She turned and saw Officer Stuart. He yanked her around the corner and pushed her down next to the bushes. “Stay here. Don’t make a sound.”
Jennifer tugged his sleeve. “He’ll be out in a few seconds,” she whispered.
Stuart pulled out his gun.
As the funeral home door opened, Officer Stuart stepped around the corner. Jennifer heard sirens screech in the distance.
“Drop it,” Stuart commanded. The knife clattered to the sidewalk followed by the metallic snap of handcuffs. Travis didn’t say a word.
Jennifer leaned her head up against the bricks and closed her eyes, relief washing over her in waves. It was finally over.
20
As a silent Travis was hauled off in the back of a squad car, Officer Stuart took Jennifer’s arm and ushered her inside. He pulled out his phone called the Detective Sergeant.
“The DS will be here shortly, so will Marcia.” He shook his head. “You must have nine lives.”
“Thank you for getting me out of harm’s way. For a split second I didn’t know which way to run.” Not wanting to discuss Travis, she reached out and touched Stuart’s arm.
“It’s been a rough few days for you.”
As he looked down at her, his eyes softened as he acknowledged his grief. “That’s why I stayed back at the station. I wasn’t in top form, so I volunteered to monitor the phones. The DS called to say Travis wasn’t up north and to get over here stat. I was afraid I might not make it in time.” He rubbed the back of his neck and rolled his shoulders to relieve his stress.
“Let’s go to the lounge, I have a mess to clean up.”
Officer Stuart stopped just inside the door of the lounge and surveyed the shattered cup and splattered coffee.
“So that’s how to stop a perpetrator, throw coffee at him?” He turned to her with a grin on his face, doing his best to add levity to the situation. “Quick thinking. Just don’t get mad at me and repeat that, OK?”
“Haney was constantly hammering into me, ‘get away.’ So I did. Have a seat, we’re safe. I’ll clean up.”
He pulled his phone and took a few pictures. “We should put this in the procedure book. It’s easier and cheaper than a tactical team.”
“Stop,” she said, laughing. They both turned as Marcia rushed into the lounge.
“They got him. Ryan told me it was OK to come in, he is right behind me.”
She looked at the mess and put her hand on her hip in mock anger.
“Which one of you did that?”
Jennifer and Stuart looked at each other and started to laugh, Jen could feel herself tremble again as the adrenaline rush that saved her life started to wear off. She lowered herself into the nearest chair.
“I did,” said Jennifer. They didn’t hear Detective Sergeant Gillespie enter.
“Did what?”
He too looked at the mess and turned to Jennifer. “Are you OK?”
“Perfectly OK,” she lied. “Let’s have coffee. I’ll tell you about it and then I want to hear what happened around the province.” Marcia looked intensely at Jennifer, raised an eyebrow, and went to the counter to get coffee. She knew Jennifer was putting on a brave front.
Once they were seated Jennifer told them about Travis coming in.
“I purposely broke a mug, thinking it was you, Marcia.” She turned to her. “I thought if you heard me mention his name, you’d slip out and call the police. I was afraid he’d kill you too.”
Officer Stuart picked up the story. “As I unlocked the door and stepped in I heard glass break, and Jennifer mention Travis’ name. I slipped out, called for backup and was preparing to enter when Jennifer came running out. Travis wasn’t too far behind her. He didn’t put up a fight. Didn’t say a word. It was rather anticlimactic after all the hype up north.”
“It was odd,” said Jennifer. “If Travis had really wanted to kill me, he would have done it right away. He had plenty of opportunity. Clearly he hated me, but he seemed to hold back. He sat right there and had coffee. After cursing me out, only then did he pull out a knife.”
“I might be able to explain it,” said Ryan. “I was told that Travis’ hideout was covered with pictures of you that he’d taken, or had others take, over the weeks. He was obsessed. He loved you and he hated you. The tactical team found letters he’d written to you but never mailed. Most letters declared his love for you. The last few letters to you were pure hatred. It was his hatred that destroyed him.”
“Poor Travis.” Her statement surprised the three of them and they looked at her, puzzled.
“His employees were not his friends, he had no friends. He chose to hate. Travis’ people had to obey him or there were consequences. Instead of sharing, he took from others. He was greedy, instead of giving, he took. He wasn’t thankful. I have everything to be thankful for. Over and over I thought if I ever confronted him again I’d yell at him and call him names, just as he did to me ... but I couldn’t. He was a shell of a man when he walked in here today. He had nothing.” She choked up.
“Stop it,” said Marcia, sounding cross. “You’re making me cry. The way you’re pontificating you should have been a preacher.”
Jennifer looked at her and started to laugh, Ryan and Stuart joined in. Her emotions were on a rollercoaster, high and low and up and down. It didn’t matter, she was safe now.
“Well, I think we may have seen the last of Travis and his henchmen,” said Ryan once the laughter settled. “There were thirty arrests today, three of them cops. Some of them will get off, some charges will be dropped, but in the end the big players will be behind bars for a long, long, time. There may be more as this unravels.”
He turned to Marcia. “I have to get back to the station sweetie, I have work to do. I’ll call you later.”
“Me too,” said Officer Stuart. “Get back to the station that is.” He winked.
Ryan looked at Jennifer. “When do you meet with Warren’s family?”
She looked at her phone. “In a little over an hour
.”
“So the visitation may start tomorrow?”
“Yes. There will be a family and team visitation tomorrow, the public visitation the next day.”
“I’ll be in touch,” said Detective Sergeant Gillespie as he and Stuart left.
Marcia looked more than a little pensive as the door closed behind them. “I’m going to have to marry that man,” she said as she looked at Jennifer. “Isn’t he just the best?”
“So are you, Marcia, so are you.”
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Born in Toronto, Canada, Jan has lived and worked in various parts of Ontario. Her original career choice was medical office assistant; her dream was to be a funeral director. Eventually she fulfilled that dream, and got her license. Jan’s first book, The Making of a Funeral Director, is a non-fiction account of what funeral service education is really like.
Now she has settled in the Niagara Region as it’s a great place to live, one never tires of the falls.
The Spencer Funeral Home Niagara series flows best if the books are read in order:
Book 1 Casket Cache
Book 2 Winter’s Mourning
Book 3 Grave Mistake
If you liked the book, please rate or review it – thank you!
You can find Jan on Twitter: @richardsonjan1, Facebook and Goodreads: Janice J. Richardson. She would be delighted to hear from you any time.
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