“So what would Carter do?” she asked.
“He would set an explosive device on that window over there,” I said, pointing at the window closest to the screened-in porch.
“Your friend is a piece of work.”
“He’s the most loyal man I know. He’d die for me.”
“If he doesn’t kill you first. What’s the scaled down version?”
“See that window? I think it’s cracked open just enough that one of us could fit through.”
Gwen volunteered. “Give me a boost and I think I can get in.”
“I was thinking about going.”
“I’m younger than you, JP. This is not a job for a decrepit old man.”
“Only by six months, three days, and four hours.”
She smiled. “I’m impressed … but I’m still going.”
There was no time to argue. And pride aside, she was likely the only one of us who would fit. I anchored myself with my cane and after removing her shoes, Gwen climbed on my shoulders. I boosted her up and she tried to squeeze through the window.
She was three-quarters of the way in as I held tightly to her ankles. She slithered a little more and I started to lose my grip. I held on as tightly as possible, but it was no use. She broke away from my grip and disappeared through the window with a scream, followed by a loud thud. Then everything went silent.
The silence was frightening. I had no idea how far the drop was, or if the paranoid Jones had some type of booby trap set up. I visualized an oversized bear trap with sharp metal claws.
“Gwen? Gwen? Are you okay?” I shouted in my loudest whisper.
No response.
My stomach sank.
“Gwen!”
Chapter 47
An hour went by.
It was actually more like a minute, but it seemed like an hour. I started to panic. I had to get in. Calling 911 wasn’t exactly an option.
But suddenly around the corner of the house, Gwen appeared like an angel. She looked unscathed, and said, “I opened the front door, let’s go.”
She wore gloves and provided me a pair. I had no idea where she stored them in that dress. I handed her the shoes that she’d removed.
“Are you okay?” I asked with concern.
“No thanks to you dropping me, I am.”
I followed her around to the front entrance. The place was cold and sterile, I thought as we entered, and the only detectable odor came from the recent use of a fireplace.
We entered the living room. It contained two chairs and a couch. A small coffee table sat empty in front of the couch. No magazines, notes, junk, or anything. It was as bland as Kyle Jones’ physical appearance.
“Look what you’ve been missing out on,” I remarked.
“A little too clean for my taste.”
“A little too clean is making me suspicious.”
“JP, we already are suspicious. That’s why we broke into his house. We need to find something that connects him to Noah’s death.”
I walked a circle from living room to dining room, through the kitchen and back to the living room. I checked for cameras, listening devices, and anything that someone like Jones might put in his house because he was paranoid. A handy news-industry survival skill that I had picked up over the years.
I found nothing.
Gwen headed down a hallway, stopping to look at photographs hanging on the wall. “Do you find it odd, JP, that every picture and memento he has is related to his time in Rockfield. No old friends, family-it’s as if his life started the day he arrived here.”
“Not really,” I said. “He’s an only child who moved around, so he likely doesn’t have a lot of longstanding relationships. And as far as his parents, he probably doesn’t want a daily reminder of their death. We haven’t found any cracks in his timeline-he had a good record in the military, his boss in Arizona thinks he’s the Second Coming, and if he had something to hide in North Carolina, then why did he keep his house there?”
She nodded, but my words didn’t seem to convince her, so I stole Murray’s theory, “I think he might be running toward something, not away from it.”
I entered the first bedroom on the right. It was neat and antiseptic, just like all the other rooms. A single bed, a laptop computer sitting on a light colored, wooden desk, and a twenty-inch television in front of the bed.
Gwen followed me in, and went directly to his closet-dry-cleaned police uniforms on one side, casual wear like jeans, flannel shirts, and sweaters on the other. On the floor, hidden behind a folded ironing-board and a pile of heavy winter sweaters, were three cardboard boxes. Gwen knelt down and began going through them as I looked on.
It contained the history Gwen sought. A lot of awards and certificates dating back to Little League, including those noting his military and police achievements. He was so anal that he actually saved his schoolwork from the many schools he’d attended, spanning the globe from Germany to San Diego to Kentucky. Nothing incriminating.
Gwen appeared to discover something and summoned me over. She handed me a copy of the picture of Jones’ parents. I took a close look at them-they appeared to be out on a houseboat at some unidentified lake. “I told you he doesn’t want to deal with it every day. Those memories are best kept in a box in the closet.”
Gwen handed me more photos. They were from the Air Force days. Most were group shots-a bunch of cocky Top Gun wannabe pilots hamming for the camera. It made the military seem more like spring break than the blood and guts of war that I had witnessed firsthand.
She handed me more shots of Jones, posing in his Gilbert, Arizona police uniform, along with some assorted ones from his time in North Carolina, proudly standing by a small airplane.
Gwen continued to dig, finding a photo titled “Batman amp; Robin.” This was another Air Force photo, but this one was specifically of Jones and another man. The photo was signed: Batman amp; Robin-Wingmen Forever! It was dated January 28, 1991. She handed them to me.
Both men, dressed in their sand-colored flight suits, were young, vibrant, and didn’t seem to have a care in the world. They stood beside their aircraft, arms draped around each other, either about to embark on another successful mission, or perhaps just victoriously returning from one. Jones seemed to be having a more difficult time with the desert sun, his skin was blotched and blistered, while his buddy had a bronze tan.
“Do you think you can find out who this wingman guy is? He might know something about Kyle that we’re missing.”
“The only military contacts I have left are the kind who would like to use me for target practice. Maybe Carter can help with that. He’s like a cult hero with the troops.”
Gwen quickly changed the subject, handing me another photo. “Check this out.”
I studied a photo of Jones standing beside an attractive girl with curly dark hair. It was titled: Lucy’s 30th. “I’m guessing this is the Lucy that the police chief in Gilbert mentioned. And I must say, for a strange anal-retentive murderer, he does pretty well with the ladies.”
I’d love to have a conversation with this Lucy, but without a last name, and only a photo, she’d be difficult to locate. I looked for a copy machine, but couldn’t locate one. It would be too risky to take the photo, so I took a picture of it with my phone. It would have to do. I did the same with the photo of Batman amp; Robin.
We knew we didn’t have much time left, so we did one final sweep.
In his desk I found the usual identification markers, such as his social security card and his pilot license from both North Carolina and Connecticut. Unfortunately, there was no diary where he confessed to killing my brother. Gwen found a pile of old VHS tapes with my name marked on them in magic marker, and according to the label, they contained some of my most famous stories for GNZ. Looks like he was returning the favor by doing a little research on me.
All interesting finds, but nothing worth risking a long prison term for. “Hurry and put that stuff back, Gwen, I want to check out
the basement before we go.”
Chapter 48
We cautiously descended the steps. My leg began to flare up with pain and I lagged behind. When I got to the bottom, I thought I’d walked into a Batman convention. Gadgets, posters, dolls.
“Holy freak show, Batman,” I said, upon the bizarre discovery.
“Can you shed any light on this?” Gwen asked.
“I think he might like Batman,” I said, feeling nostalgic. “I remember watching the Batman television show with you and we had to have my mom come in the room to read all the words that flashed on the screen during the climactic fight scenes. POW, BAM, KABOOM.”
Gwen smiled. “If I remember correctly, I learned to read before you and put a stop to that.”
“Are you ever not competitive?”
“I can’t believe you’re talking.”
She wandered to the wall and read out loud the inscription on it. It was a poem, entitled Batman: The Dark Knight.
Gwen turned back to me. “What do you make of this?”
I looked at my watch in a subtle nudge to hurry this along. “Not sure, other than it sure isn’t Keats.”
I read the words on the wall one more time. He battles crime, his victims bleed stuck with me. I thought of Noah. I filed the poem away in the back of my mind, just as my cell phone startled us.
“I just left the police station. And so did Jones, so you might want to think about getting out of there.”
“What happened to stalling?” I asked, motioning Gwen to hurry up the staircase.
“Once I showed them a video of your boy assaulting me, they got rid of me as soon as possible.”
“I owe you one. I’ll give you first shot at Jones when we nail him.”
“It’s only going to take one. I’m going to kill that little punk.”
“Deal.”
We bolted up the stairs and out of the house, fairly confident nothing was out of place and no prints were left. I trailed her into the woods, using my cane to fight off branches and prickers. Our adrenaline warmed the cold night.
We arrived at the van, huffing and puffing. At least I was, Gwen appeared as if she was ready to run a 5K. She started the vehicle and we peeled out of the driveway like we were driving the getaway car at a bank robbery. As we turned onto Evergreen, it seemed we were home free, and I let out a sigh of relief.
But that’s when we saw the flashing aerial lights of a police car. We both knew who it was.
I braced as Jones stepped toward the van. Gwen rolled down her window.
“Are you lost ma’am?” he said with a plastic, obviously forced smile.
What a comedian.
He looked to the passenger side and his face gripped with jealousy. “Good evening, Mr. Warner. I’m glad to see that you’re still in one piece after such a brutal assault.”
I doubted that he was. “Thank you, officer. I never like getting my ass kicked on an empty stomach.”
Jones turned back to Gwen. “I thought you were going home?”
“After the fight, I brought JP up to the emergency room at New Milford Hospital. But it was the typical Friday night zoo and the wait was like three hours. He said he was feeling better, so I was bringing him home.”
Jones looked at me. “I didn’t know you lived around here?”
Gwen thought fast once again. “We were headed there. But first I wanted to stop by and see that you were okay. I doubted you’d be here, but I wanted to at least leave you a note. It was actually an IOU for another dinner. I really hope we can do it again soon, but I also wanted you to know that I understand the sacrifices you have to make for your job.”
She reached into her purse and pulled out a note in an envelope and handed it to Jones. He read the note and appeared satisfied. She had thought of everything.
“I didn’t want you to think I was one of those clingy girlfriends, so I decided against leaving it. I guess I’m kinda a wimp.” She smiled at him.
“I’m glad you gave it to me,” Jones said with a creepy smile, and reached toward her. She jumped back-a natural reaction, but one that might make him suspicious … if he wasn’t already. Jones picked a pine-needle off of her dress. I looked down and noticed that we were both covered in pine needles. She made up a lame story about stopping at my parents’ house so I could pick up my health insurance information, before heading to the hospital. “The place is practically in the middle of the woods, and with his parents at the football game, there were no lights on. I ran right smack into a pine tree.”
“I’ve been to the Warner house, and it is very remote. I hope that you’re alright.”
“I’m better than the tree.” She laughed nervously once again, and then attempted to change the subject, “I thought you’d be working all night, Kyle. Maybe it’s not too late to have that dinner.”
“I’m tired, Gwen. I’ve had a rough night. So we’ll have to take a rain-check,” he held up his IOU as proof of a future date. “But we’re still on for our trip next week, right?”
“Of course. I’ve been looking forward to it for weeks.”
“That’s good to hear, Gwen. And it looks like I might have some unexpected vacation time coming to me. I’ll call you tomorrow-drive safe.”
Before returning to the police car, he handed Gwen the jacket she’d left on the way to the restaurant. He also flashed me a quick look to kill. I couldn’t figure out if his point of contention was my close proximity to Gwen, or if he wanted me to back off my investigation into Noah’s murder. Or maybe he was concerned we might have broken into his home and touched his Batman action figures. I contemplated the possibilities as I watched him walk back to his vehicle.
The minute he was gone, Gwen blurted, “He knows.”
“He just thinks we were doing it in the woods,” I attempted to joke, while picking another pine-needle off her dress.
“The way he looked at me-he knew.”
“He knows what? That we broke into his house? That he thinks we’re having some kind of steamy affair? That we now know that he longs for some kinky three-way with you and Batman?”
“He’s starting to scare me, JP.”
“Starting? You’re not really going on vacation with him.”
“I can’t back out now. Besides, it’s a much better plan than this charade.”
“It wasn’t a question, Gwen-you’re not going.”
A lecture commenced about my right to have any opinion about her life, due to circumstances from years ago.
“C’mon, Gwen. That was like three lifetimes ago.”
“Those who don’t remember the past are condemned to repeat it.”
I leaned back, defeated, and rubbed my temples. I remembered from the past that this was an argument I’d never win, and I wasn’t going to repeat it.
Chapter 49
Ocracoke Island, North Carolina
October 1st
The small Piper propeller plane made a perfect landing on the small airstrip on Ocracoke Island. The only access to the small island off the coast of North Carolina was by sea or air.
Kyle Jones helped Gwen out of the plane like a perfect gentleman. She stood on the runway in her white buttoned down shirt tucked into mauve jeans that she wore with sandals. She breathed in the warm salty air. “Plan Gwen” was under way.
She was always more subtle than JP, which showed in their ideas on how to solve the case. They were in agreement that they believed Jones was a murderous vigilante who killed Noah. But that’s where the consensus ended. Gwen doubted JP’s breaking and entering plan would be productive, and it wasn’t. It only led to more questions. High risk/low reward.
She knew the only way to connect the dots was to find the motive behind Jones’ obsession, and the only way to do that was one on one, like a real reporter.
A couple areas of interest were his parents, whose death led to the settlement that helped him afford the home in Ocracoke, and the plane that delivered them here. Also, Kyle’s wingman from the photo. JP was working
with Carter to get access to Air Force records to try to discover his identity, but Gwen thought her time alone with Kyle would be more fruitful in that search. The other point of emphasis was the girlfriend from Arizona named Lucy.
Jones’ extensive Batman collection fascinated her, and she’d researched the Batman tales since the break-in. Bruce Wayne and his parents were returning home from the theater after watching The Mask of Zorro, when Bruce witnessed his parents shot to death by a mugger in a dark alleyway. Bruce vowed to dedicate his life to fighting crime in the dark night. He did so with a relentless obsession and a burning passion to punish all criminals, disguised as a mythical figure called Batman. On some levels, it seemed to parallel Jones’ pursuit. But for all she knew, he could be just a Batman fan like millions of others around the world. She had her work cut out for her.
Jones put his arm around her and walked her across the small runway to a waiting taxicab. He held the door for her with a smile. He was very much like many zealots she had interviewed in the course of her work. Calm, smiling, and charming most of the time. But when their zealotry was questioned, even slightly, they would lash out.
He made no mention about the one-week suspension he’d received from the force. Her source told her that it was related to an incident where he was caught on video roughing up a DUI suspect, which Tolland had tried to keep quiet-although, it sounded more like the work of Maloney. Officially, Jones was on vacation. Her source was Jeff Carter.
She never pushed the issue. The last thing they wanted was to shine a light on Jones. He would have gone on high alert, and the odds of connecting him to Noah’s murder would decrease.
They entered the cab that advertised low rates to “all island airports,” even though there was only one. He instructed the driver to take them to a restaurant called The Back Porch. The familiarity of the island seemed to put him into a comfort zone. Gwen played the passive girlfriend, allowing him to feel in charge.
Officer Jones Page 16