by Andy Rane
“They killed my neighbor…someone…they killed Mr. Isaacson. And…they think it was me,” James said, looking between the two of them.
“But, how?” Kevin asked.
“There was a 911 call from my house…it almost…he thought it was me. Then he shot him. Whoever made the call shot him…three times! He was an old man. They killed him…because of me. And now, they think I did it,” James said, turning now to sit in the snow.
Kevin tugged on his arm to try and lift him from the ground, but James resisted.
“James, honey, we need to get moving then,” Nicole said.
“Why are they doing this?” James asked.
He stared at Nicole and his eyes began to well with tears.
“Why are they ruining other people’s lives…because of me? I didn’t…I didn’t do anything. Why can’t they just leave us alone?”
He turned his head and wiped the tears away.
“I wish I had an answer,” she said and wrapped herself around him.
Kevin crouched down and put his arms around both of them.
“James, I don’t want to be a prick…I’m sorry for your loss and all, and as much as I’m into the whole hug fest, could we move it to the car? My balls are gonna crawl up into my stomach in a minute.”
“C’mon,” Nicole said. They stood, half lifting James from the ground.
James trudged back to the car and slumped into the back seat. In his mind, he could see and hear Samuel Isaacson’s last moments, repeating over and over. He screamed at the top of his lungs.
Chapter 23
Norris pulled the wool hat tight over his head. The snow might have stopped, but a bitter arctic wind had chased it down from Canada, or so the weatherman would have you believe. It was supposed to creep back up above freezing later, but that would be accompanied by rain.
Large sections of the parking lot of the hotel in Springfield, Pennsylvania, had been cordoned off with yellow tape. Judging by the size of the town, Norris figured they had raided the local hardware store for the extra rolls. He pulled out his badge as he approached the line. A lone officer who, to Norris, looked barely old enough to break the law, let alone defend it, pulled his collar about his ears, glanced at Norris’ badge and nodded. He pointed to the hotel, where there were three men standing, looking at the ground as if all three were in deep thought. Norris thanked the deputy and lifted the yellow tape above his head.
He had crossed three quarters of the lot before a fit of coughing took him over. The pain wracked his body, shooting from his chest down through to his ass. He blinked tears from his eyes and he wavered in his tracks for a moment. He didn’t see the office approach, but was glad for the hand of support that had gripped his elbow.
“Can I help you?” the man said in a deep baritone voice.
Norris hacked one last time, then bent away from the man and spit into the snow. He looked down at the bulge of bloody green mucous, then kicked some snow over it. He wiped his mouth with the exposed back of his free hand. Shit.
“FBI. Agent John Norris, for what it’s worth” said Norris, flashing his badge again. He forced another cough back.
“Deputy Robinson. If you don’t mind me saying, Agent Norris, you don’t look too good,” said the officer holding his arm. Norris turned to look at the man.
A square-jawed, clean-shaven, black man, Deputy Robinson wore a look of genuine concern on his face.
“Deputy,” said Norris, “I don’t feel so good, but the sooner I can get my work done here, the sooner I can worry about that little problem. Make sense?”
“Right,” said Robinson, releasing Norris’ arm slowly as if waiting for him to need it again. Norris straightened himself, and pulled his hat on tighter.
“The one you want to talk to is Lieutenant Fields. He’s right over there.”
As he said this, Lieutenant Fields turned and strode toward them.
Lieutenant Fields was a tall young man of about thirty, Norris guessed. He looked too good to be a local cop, and Norris thought he might have puffed his chest up before he turned, which meant he was either dumber than a box of rocks or there was something else fundamentally wrong with him.
“Lieutenant…Agent Norris, FBI,” Robinson said.
“Agent,” Fields said, extending a hand. Norris looked at it, then at Fields who seemed to have lost some steam.
“Don’t want to leave you hangin’, Lieutenant, but you don’t want what I’ve got,” Norris said.
Fields smiled wanly and pulled his hand back into his coat pocket.
“What can I do for you, Agent?”
“A little bird told me you had some trouble. Thought I’d stop by and see if I couldn’t help,” Norris said.
“Well, I think we’ve got things under control,” Fields said.
“You have a fairly large area cordoned off, Lieutenant.”
“We’ve got footprints everywhere.”
“Snowfall didn’t obscure them?” Norris asked.
“A little, but there was only a dusting after the incident,” Fields said.
“What have you made out so far?” Norris asked.
Fields shot a look to Robinson that was hard for Norris to not notice. He hesitated.
“Lieutenant…we’re all on the same side here. I already know you’ve got a missing body. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be here. Spill.”
Fields considered this, then spoke.
“Well, the night manager’s a little skittish. He…wasn’t exactly on duty per se. Had a little nightcap and dozed off when this all went down. He’s afraid he’s going to become some sort of accessory for doing what he did,” he said.
“Which was what? Drinking on the job?” Norris asked.
“He boarded some people last night off the books. Took cash for a little room around back that’s really an old storage closet. Said there was only one guy who came in to check in, but he was pretty sure there were a few more people in the car,” Fields said.
“Small town to try and keep secrets in,” said Norris.
He slipped a hand into his coat pocket and pulled out a wrapped cough drop. He fumbled with it, his ungloved hands stiff in the bitter cold morning air. Just as he managed to raise it to his mouth, it slipped in his fingers, grazed his outstretched lips, and fell into the snow at his feet. He stared after it for a moment like a kid who has just dropped his ice cream on the pavement and considers the possibility of rescuing it. He looked up at Lieutenant Fields who looked down at the ground with a small look of sympathy. Norris pulled out another cough drop and handed it to Robinson pathetically. The Deputy didn’t bat an eye. He peeled the wrapper off and dropped the candy into Norris’ outstretched hand.
“Much appreciated, Deputy,” Norris said.
“People still try…to keep secrets that is,” said Robinson.
“But, it wasn’t locals,” Norris said.
“No. Night manager said the guy was tan. Definitely not from around here. Two of the witnesses corroborated on the plates. The sedan had Florida plates. The classic was from Texas.”
“A Barracuda?”
“How’d you know that?” Fields asked.
“Call it an educated hunch,” Norris said.
“One of the witnesses is a local mechanic. Said he’d know one from a mile away in the fog,” Robinson said.
“Is that so?”
Norris tried to pull his coat tighter to himself. The cough drop had done the trick for now, and he breathed in deep on the cold air.
“Said he thought it might be a ’68 or a ’69,” Robinson said.
“Huh,” said Norris.
He could remember the ’69 well. It was intimidating next to cars twice its size. It had balls even if the driver didn’t. But, that wasn’t what was intriguing Norris.
“It was black?” Norris asked, knowing it was.
“Yep,” Robinson said.
“Tinted windows?” Norris asked.
“Yes,” said Fields, cocking his head. “Familiar to you?”
“Nope,” said Norris, not having to try hard in covering the lie with a cough. The cough turned into an actual fit, and he turned away from the deputy, nearly spitting out the cough drop. He recovered. “It’s a familiar layout for that car. Probably a couple hundred like them left in mint condition.”
“But, at least we can narrow it down to Texas,” Robinson said.
“Probably a waste of time,” said Norris, wiping the water from his burning eyes. “Did anyone get a number on the plates?”
“No. They were either too far away, or too busy dodging bullets,” Robinson said.
“Someone fired at a witness?”
“One of the witnesses decided to try and scare him away by telling him the cops were on their way. He didn’t take kindly. He didn’t miss by much,” Fields said, pointing to a row of houses nearby.
“He didn’t miss,” Norris muttered.
“What’s that?” Fields asked.
“Nothing. So, what’s the timeline?”
“What we can figure from the tracks and the witnesses is that there were two confrontations. The first occurred at approximately 2:30 am. Our missing dead man confronted the shooter at the front of the building,” said Fields.
He pointed to an area close to the front right wing of the building. There were two yellow plastic pyramids, typically used to mark shell casings on the ground near one another.
“One witness actually saw the shots and watched the man fall into the snow. Didn’t hear a single report though…suggesting they were silenced. He went to call the police. No less than five minutes later, they were all gone.”
“No one saw the dead man walk,” Norris said.
“No,” Fields said.
“And no blood,” Norris said.
“Nope,” Robinson said.
“He was wearing a vest,” Norris said.
“Pardon?” Fields asked.
“He was wearing a bullet proof vest. It’s the only answer, Lieutenant,” Norris said.
“But, that would mean he was expecting to be shot,” Fields said, his face screwing in confusion.
“Strange world we live in, Lieutenant. Tell me about the second incident,” Norris said.
Robinson cleared his throat.
“The only witness to get a real good look at any of them. Heard his garbage cans being knocked around and got up to look out. He saw two men in the road. One older man with a gun and one younger man without. He went to call the cops and when he was on the phone he saw a car come out of the parking lot and nearly hit the man with the gun. The young man jumped in the car and fled the scene. Our shooter, dressed in a black jacket and cap joined our man with the gun. The witness then made the nearly fatal mistake of shouting at the armed men in the street.”
Robinson said. Norris nodded thoughtfully.
“Agent, I’m still not sure why you’re here. Though we don’t exactly deal with this kind of thing on a regular basis, we are still trained for such occurrences. Last murder was over ten years ago…and that was nothing like this,” Fields said.
“And how old were you, Lieutenant?” Norris asked, smiling.
Fields blushed visibly and pursed his lips.
“Sixteen, maybe,” he said.
“Well, have no fear, Lieutenant, your streak’s still alive. You’ve merely had an attempted murder. That man is still alive…somewhere.”
“He’s gotta be hurt though,” Robinson said.
“Ever taken a bullet, Deputy?” Norris asked.
The deputy chuckled a bit, then stopped, seeing the look on Norris’ face.
“No, sir,” Robinson said.
“Well, a vest only cuts down on the blood loss. You’re still gonna take a pretty mighty wallop. And, judging by the range, ten…fifteen feet max, I’d imagine our dead man walking is wishing he were dead. Where’s the nearest hospital?”
“About five miles,” Fields
“Might want to send some of your men in that direction. Check for tracks leading that way. Probably off the road. He won’t have walked on the road. And, he won’t have checked in. If he has, he’s a fool. And, a man who wears a vest…well, this one’s not your typical fool,” Norris said.
“I don’t have too many men to spare, Agent Norris. With the chief out, there’s only a handful of us,” Fields said.
“I doubt you’re going to have a return call, Lieutenant. By the sounds of it, you’ll have a lot to tell the state police. Attempted murder, attempted assault, weapons offences, etcetera.”
“Don’t forget the attempted vehicular assault, Agent Norris,” Robinson said.
“The sedan?” Norris asked.
“Sure…we don’t know the circumstances, but we can’t just assume…” Robinson said.
“Did any of these kids have a gun?”
“I…none of the witnesses said anything like that. No, I don’t think they did,” Robinson gave Fields a look as if seeking forgiveness.
“And our walking dead man?” Norris asked.
“We’re fairly certain he didn’t,” said Fields.
Norris looked at Fields, who looked away.
“Fairly certain, Deputy?”
“There were no reliable accounts,” Robinson said.
“Gotta love it. People can tell you what clothes Oprah wore for the last three days, down to her shoes, but ask them something important, and…anyway, my point here, Deputy, is that we might do more harm than good by putting heat on the kids. Let’s let that one slide a while.”
The Deputy and Lieutenant did their best to avoid eye contact for a moment. Fields shifted his eyes to the ground and kicked some snow with his boot. Norris saw for the first time just how young this man was. Thirty might have been a stretch. Norris couldn’t help but sigh. He looked from Fields to Robinson and back.
“Deputy, you did what you were supposed to. Next time give it some thought. The book is a great tool…a guide for us all, but remember that it was written by someone who sits at a desk all day. You’ll remember that next time. I’d like to take a quick look around and then get out of here. My balls are about the size of peas,” Norris said.
“Rob, hang here at the line. Now that this is down the wire, we might have some gawkers swinging by. Hold ‘em at bay,” Fields said.
Robinson turned back toward the yellow tape, a hangdog expression in his shoulders.
Fields and Norris walked toward the yellow markers. Beneath each was a copper shell casing. The Deputy stepped to the left of the markers and raised his arm, as if he were holding an invisible gun.
“We already took all our measurements, Agent, so I’m not messing anything up.”
“That’d be your problem, Lieutenant, not mine. Go on.”
“Two bullets. Standard 9 mm. Nothing fancy. Same stuff you can buy over the counter at Wal-Mart,” Fields said.
“Makes sense,” Norris said.
“We’ll dust the casings,” Fields said.
“You probably won’t find anything,” Norris said.
The Lieutenant ignored that comment and walked over to where the victim had fallen. The snow evidence was still clear.
“He fell almost flat. Then, by the looks of it, he just got up and walked away.
“Which way did he head?”
“We only followed them out to the road, but then he must’ve hopped around in some tire tracks or something cuz they sorta just disappear,” Fields said.
“Start looking in back yards…you’ll find ‘em,” Norris said.
“We’ll do that.”
“And no blood was found, right?” Norris asked.
“Not a goddamn trace,” Fields said.
Norris walked a pace around the corner and stopped, looking down at the tracks in the snow.
“Agent?” Fields said, giving Norris a tap on the shoulder. “Do you want to see the room?”
“Mmmm? Oh, yeah. Don’t know what good it’ll do, but…sure. Lieutenant?”
“Yes?”
“You put an APB out on both
vehicles, right?”
The deputy nodded, though almost apologetically.
“I don’t know what good it will have done though. At least not until now. With the weather, and the state of emergency, there isn’t too much manpower to spare. They could have slipped by anyone in the night. Especially the sedan. But, now that it’s daylight…” Fields said, trailing.
“And you haven’t heard anything?” Norris asked.
“No,” said Fields.
Norris scratched the three-day-old scruff on his cheek. It wouldn’t be long before something came up. The question was who would be caught first, and how would that go down. He figured they hadn’t stopped the Barracuda yet. They would have definitely heard something by now. But, that meant that the sedan could have made it out of the state by then.
“Lieutenant, you keep doing your job here. The evidence you collect here will probably be needed down the road. It might not point to the pot of gold, but it’s part of the rainbow, y’know?”
The Lieutenant shrugged.
“Consider it a training exercise. Now, where’s this cozy little room? I guess I’ll have a peak at it.”
Norris tried to laugh, but coughed, then gagged on the chunk of phlegm that had come up to his mouth. He turned away, coughed again and spit into a pile of pristine snow. He didn’t bother to examine it this time. When he turned back to Fields, the man’s eyes were watering and he looked somewhat paler. Norris wiped his mouth with the back of his hand again.
“Sorry ‘bout that, Lieutenant…please…lead on.”
Chapter 24
James’ had not closed his eyes with the intention of sleeping, but his body must have argued otherwise. He dreamed of his mother, standing in the kitchen pouring a cup of tea with one hand, holding a gun in the other. It was pointed at him, and she was saying, in a voice that was not hers, that she should have done this when James was born. She pulled the trigger, but he couldn’t move or scream, and he lurched into a new sequence. He was a small child; perhaps only three or four. His father was there, standing with his Uncle Ted, the two men towering over him. His uncle reached down as if to pick him up, but he picked up someone James had not seen. It was a boy, and his uncle turned quickly away with the boy, and James was running after him, trying to see the boy’s face, but his legs were getting bogged down in the suddenly waist deep grass. He was crying hard enough to sob, but when he turned, the yard, his yard, was gone, replaced by an endless sea of grass. They were gone. It was all gone. A voice called to him. It was Nicole. He could hear her, but he couldn’t see her through fog that had seeped in. She called out again, this time more clearly. She was afraid. His voice broke, ‘I don’t know where you are!’