Thriller: I Am Sal - A Mystifying Crime Thriller (Thriller, Crime Thriller, Murder Mystery Book 1)

by Abraham Falls

  No.

  “Why not?”

  My creator is deceased.

  Well, that pretty well established that Sal and the creator could not be the same person. Sal, at least as far as I knew, was still among the living. “How did your creator die?”

  My creator was killed by Deputy Johnson.

  My thoughts went instantly to the second body. Whoever that man was, he had been killed by a gunshot to the chest, and this wasn’t the first time I’d considered the possibility that the bullet came from Johnson’s gun. Now I had substantiation for that theory, but unless I could get something more concrete, it would never hold up in court.

  “Why did Deputy Johnson kill your creator?”

  Deputy Johnson wanted to steal my creator’s intellectual property, and did not understand that my avatar was without value. My creator attempted to prevent him from taking my avatar, and Deputy Johnson pointed a weapon at him. My creator attempted to explain, but Deputy Johnson fired his weapon. My creator then fled from him, into the basement of the house.

  That was the longest string of text it had given us yet, and it was confusing as hell. I knew what an avatar was, and figured quickly that it must refer to the robot that was laying on the table. What I didn’t understand was why the computer would say that the avatar had no value. From what Armstrong had said, every piece of that thing must have cost quite a pretty penny. Why would the creator make such a fuss over it if it had no value? And why would Johnson be there to steal and kill?

  A thought hit me, and I reached out to the keyboard. “Who else was in the basement at that time?”

  Only Sal was in the basement at that time.

  “Why did your Creator go to the basement after being shot?”

  My creator went to the basement to awaken Sal and get his assistance. He died before Sal awoke.

  “If your Creator failed to awaken Sal, then who woke him up?”

  I awakened Sal.

  “Do you know why Sal has no memory prior to that time?”

  No. I only became aware of his lack of memory after awakening him.

  “Did you speak to him? After you woke him up, I mean?”

  No.

  “It is very important that you and I speak more, and meet. Otherwise, it is highly likely that Sal will go to prison for murder. With your evidence, we should be able to prove that Sal is innocent.”

  I am not permitted to give you that information.

  I almost screamed. “Who can give you permission to give me that information?”

  Only Sal.

  “Why can Sal give you that permission?”

  I belong to Sal, now.

  Chapter 27

  Gunner and I had been taking it easy all morning, sitting in the day room and watching the news on television. There wasn’t anything incredibly exciting to be seen there, but at least it was something to do. Some of our independent friends had been sitting with us, and we had all been sharing coffee and talking a bit.

  Of course, in reality, this was nothing but a way to pass the time. I was waiting for lunch to come, when I was supposed to get another note in my lunch tray. Part of me was afraid of getting caught, while yet another part was trying to figure out how my unknown ally was managing to get the notes to me at all.

  I’m sure it helped that I was always first to get my lunch tray, ever since that episode where I had kicked a bunch of prison gang asses. That only told me, however, that my friend had to know a lot about what went on in the jail. If I went on the assumption that he or she must be an employee there, that would leave me with only a couple of hundred possibilities, considering the size of the place.

  Of course, I had to consider the possibility that it might be an inmate, as well, which would take me up to a few thousand potential suspects, although I didn’t think it was likely. The notes implied that I would meet the person behind the walls after I escaped, so that person must not be a prisoner.

  I also had to consider the other possibility, that this person simply knew one of the guards, and was paying him or her to get the information and pass the notes. Which would mean it could be literally anyone.

  I knew what I was doing, just trying to find ways to fill the hours until lunchtime. Each of the notes I had received had come during the lunch meal, and I had no reason to think that day would be different. The note from the day before had specifically said I would receive the instructions on how to escape that day, so I was sure it would be at lunchtime.

  At last, it was time to find out, as everyone started getting ready to get into line, waiting for me to take my place at the head. Gunner stepped up behind me, and the first tray was passed to me by one of the inmates on the line. He was a Hispanic guy, and he caught my eye for just a split second, then let his eyes flick down to the tray that he was handing to me. I pretended not to notice, then took the tray and carried it off to the table Gunner and I always shared.

  Just like the day before, all of our friends were toward the back of the line, so I popped the cover off my tray and held it to where it would block the view of anyone looking my direction. The note was there, right on top of the cornbread that went along with the beans. I slipped it into my pocket as Gunner sat down across from me.

  “You know you got to go see what it says,” he said with a grin. “Ain’t no way you gon’ be able to wait till tonight. You go on and finish eating, then go up to the cell like you using the bathroom. You can hang a towel over the window in the door while you take a dump, nobody think nothing of it.”

  He had kept eating while he talked, and I understood exactly what he meant. I didn’t know why that hadn’t occurred to me the day before, but I guess it was just because I wasn’t accustomed to being in jail. We chatted about inconsequential things while we ate, then cut up with the other guys when they got there. When I finished my tray, though, I told Gunner I had to go to the bathroom, and made sure it was loud enough for everyone to hear. I climbed the stairs up to where our cell was, hung a towel over the top of the door so that it covered the window, then pulled it shut behind me. It didn’t latch, but the towel would give me privacy for a few minutes.

  Just in case one of the COs should happen to yank the door open, I dropped my jumpsuit and sat down on the toilet before I unfolded the note. I read through it quickly, then went through it a second time.

  Right after lights out tonight, as soon as the count is finished, your door will open. There will be no jailers monitoring the video, because they will all be in an emergency meeting. You will slip out and down the stairs, where you’ll find the cell block doors open. Go out and turn left, and follow the hall until you get to the door marked Special Equipment. Go into that room and you will find boxes full of new sheriff’s office uniforms. You will find shoes there, as well. Put on a set, and then go back into the hall and keep going the way you were. You’ll come to an exit door, and there is an intercom beside it. Push the button and tell the dispatcher that you’re going off duty, and they’ll let you out. When you get outside, you’ll see an old brown Ford pickup truck. The key is on top of the sun visor. Take it and follow the map that is laying on the dashboard. The map will show you how to get to an abandoned farm. It’s secluded enough that it’ll be safe for us to meet. Remember to tell no one, and flush this note.

  I was trembling with excitement, and probably with fear, as well. I couldn’t believe that I was actually preparing to escape from jail. I read through the note twice more, started to flush it, and then decided I would prefer to let Gunner read it first. I tucked it quickly under his pillow, then got up and made a show of flushing the toilet, so people could hear it. If you’ve ever heard a jailhouse toilet flush, you’ll know what I mean; it sounds like a jet engine exploded in your cell.

  I made my way back to the day room, where Gunner had a cup of coffee waiting for me. I grinned as I accepted it, and tried to think of a way to let him know that the note was waiting for him to read it. We sat there for about fifteen or twenty minutes, just shooting the
breeze amongst us all, and then some of the guys went to another table to play cards. I had just a moment of privacy, so I leaned over to Gunner and told him that the tooth fairy had left a present for him.

  He grinned, then got up and announced it was his turn to go stink up the cell. I laughed and told him to have at it, and he walked up the stairs.

  Fifteen minutes later, he was back, and the look on his face was disturbing, to say the least. I could tell he wanted to talk, but there were too many people close to us to allow that to happen. It would have to wait, I knew, but a part of me was worried. What if he had seen something in the note that I had missed, something that said it truly was a trap? If this thing turned out to be bogus, I wasn’t sure how I would handle it. I was scared to death of going to prison, not because I was afraid of getting hurt, but because I was afraid I would never see freedom again.

  Come to think of it, except for a very few minutes before I ran into Sheriff Branson, I didn’t have any memories of freedom, at all. How strange was it that my life, as far as I knew, had begun only seconds before I was arrested for a murder I was certain I didn’t commit?

  Gunner and I both tried unsuccessfully to get rid of our buddies, suggesting more than once that they go elsewhere to do whatever they wanted to do, but we didn’t want to come right out and be rude. Rudeness is a way to lose respect in prison, and we were careful not to let that happen. That meant that we never got the chance to talk privately all afternoon, and finally, it was dinner time.

  Of course, that meant we would have just a few minutes of privacy. I hurried to the front of the line, got my tray and let Gunner get his, and then we walked calmly back to our table. We would have about three or four minutes before any of the independents would start sitting down close to us.

  “Did you read it?” I whispered.

  “I read it,” he said. “You really going to try this?”

  “Gunner, I don’t think I have a choice,” I said. “If this person can help me prove I’m innocent, I have to reach out to him. Besides, it sounds like he’s got this set up pretty well, don’t you think?”

  Gunner shrugged, but I saw a grin on his face. “Funny thing is, this plan so simple, it probably gonna work. I’ve seen the way things work, and if somebody wearing a uniform at that door, that dispatcher gonna buzz them right out without even thinking about it.” He looked me in the eye, then. “Of course, that’s when things get hairy. If they gonna be waiting for you, then they be right outside that door. Soon as you step outside, then you have escaped, and they can shoot to kill.”

  I shook my head. “I think this is too well thought out for a plan like that. If all they want is to kill me, there’s a dozen ways to do it. I think it’s more likely they’d just find me hanging by my sheet in the cell. Somehow, I really think this is genuine, and I’ve got to go for it.”

  Gunner glanced around, to make sure no one was in earshot yet. “I knew you were gonna say that,” he said. “So, okay, I’m going with you.”

  My eyes went wide. “You what? Gunner, you can’t risk it; you’ve only got two years to go. You don’t want five more years tacked on for escape. Your wife and little girl, they need you, when you get out.”

  He nodded. “I know it,” he said, “but here how I see this. You need somebody to watch your back, because even as tough as you are, ain’t nobody can see everything. I go with you, I watch your back, then after you get what you need, we both turn ourselves in. Apparently, you’re a rich man, so I’m hoping maybe you’ll get me a lawyer once you get out, and maybe help me get this time cut down even farther. Or at least, maybe you help out my wife and baby girl. You cool with that?”

  I smiled from ear to ear. As far as I knew, I had only two friends in the whole world, and I was looking at one of them. “You know I am,” I said. “Partners, right?”

  Gunner smiled just as widely. “Partners!”

  That evening lasted almost forever, I was sure, or at least a couple of thousand years. It seemed like an hour would pass and I’d look at the clock, only to see that it had been less than a minute since the last check. I tried everything I could think of, watching television, playing card games—it all just seemed to drag on and on and on.

  Finally, we heard the two tones come over the loudspeaker, the sound that meant it was time to lock down and wait for count. It was sort of like a very loud doorbell, but it was an incredibly welcome sound that night. Gunner and I walked up the stairs, went into our cell, and sat on his bunk as we waited for the count.

  The count took a little time, because there were twenty-two cell blocks in the jail. Two jailers had to count all of the inmates in each cell block, and if they didn’t get the same count, then that cell block had to be counted again. If they still couldn’t agree, then another jailer had to be called in to count, until they were certain of the correct number. None of the cell blocks were clear until all of them had completed count and been verified as correct. The idea was that if any of us escaped, they’d know it by the next count, since at least one cell block would be short on its count.

  Finally, after almost half an hour, the all clear was sounded, and the lights clicked off. Gunner and I sat there for another ten minutes, waiting. Just waiting. And then, we heard the buzz and click that meant our door was open, and my heart nearly leaped out of my throat. I glanced at him, and he nodded.

  I went to the door, and pushed on it gently. It swung open, and I stood in the open doorway for a moment. After no alarms sounded, I started walking toward the stairs. Gunner appeared right behind me, and we hurried down the stairs and across the day room to the exit doors.

  Sure enough, both doors were standing open, a clear violation of procedures. Only one of these doors was ever supposed to be open at a time, so that there could never be a rush of inmates into the hallway. Gunner and I jogged through and swung left, just as the note had said to do, and it was only a moment later that we entered the room marked Special Equipment.

  There were dozens of brand-new uniforms hanging there, and boxes and boxes of new shoes. I grabbed a uniform that looked like it would fit me, and Gunner did the same. We stripped and changed in a matter of seconds, it seemed, and then I sat on a box while I slid a pair of new shoes onto my feet. Gunner was right beside me, and as soon as we were both fully dressed, we stood, adjusted our neckties, and started down the hallway again.

  I was in the lead, so when we got to the exit door, I was the one to nervously push the button on the intercom. I waited for what seemed like forever but was probably only three or four seconds. Then a voice came through that said, “Yes?”

  I grinned into the camera, even though my heart was beating about ninety miles an hour. “Hey, we’re off duty now, can you let us out?” I asked, as politely, yet as casually, as I could. It sounded horrible, and I thought for sure we were about to be caught. There were probably a dozen armed guards coming towards us right now.

  Another eon passed as we waited for a response, but then the dispatcher came back. “Yeah, sorry guys, I got called away for just a second. Here you go.”

  The door buzzed and clicked, and I pushed on it. Gunner and I stepped out into a night that was illuminated by tall lights around the building. There were no others in sight, so we began walking towards the parking lot, right in front of us.

  Most of the vehicles in the parking lot were fairly new, and congregated in one area. There were only a couple of strays, vehicles that were parked away from all the others, and one of them was a brown Ford pickup. We walked up to it as if we owned it, and I climbed in and slid behind the wheel while Gunner went around to get into the passenger seat.

  The key was on the visor, and I used it to start the truck up while Gunner looked over the map. It looked like it had been printed off of a computer, but it showed clearly we should get from the jail’s parking lot to what we assumed was the abandoned farm the note had mentioned. I put the truck in gear and let the clutch out, and we rolled smoothly out onto the road.

  Gun
ner was looking at me. “Well, we know that you can drive a stick shift, now,” he said.

  I glanced down at the shifter, realizing that it was a four-speed. I had noticed that before, but only superficially. When I started driving, I just did what came naturally. “I must have driven a lot of them in the past, I’m thinking,” I said. “It feels pretty natural.”

  Gunner grinned. “I figured as much when you hopped in the driver’s seat first.” I smiled at him. “I got a feeling,” he added, “you can do most anything you set your mind to. You just one of them kind of guys, do whatever you want to do. Of course, it don’t hurt that you rich, too.”

  We followed the directions on the map, and arrived at the old farm about an hour later. The house was falling down, but the barn was still pretty sturdy. We parked the truck behind the barn, then got out and walked around it once. There was no sign of anyone else at the moment, so we went into the barn and climbed up into the loft to wait.

  Chapter 28

  INTERLUDE FIVE

  I looked at the video that Bobbie had gotten of my burglar, and it sure looked to me like it could be the guy I had met at the bar. He was a big fellow, just like this one, and he also wore a hooded jacket.

  Unfortunately, Bobbie couldn’t get a clear view of his face, so the only identifying feature was his size. The jacket was gray, and looked like it was probably pretty worn, so there was no way it could be unique enough to offer any kind of positive identification, even if I saw someone with it.

  Since nothing had been stolen, I decided not to panic. I added a couple of other cameras, so that if he came back, there would be a good chance of getting a clear shot of his face, and instructed Bobbie to call me on my cell phone if he happened to come in while I was gone, again.

  A month went by with no more intrusions, and I began to wonder if it might have simply been some thrill-seeking teenager. Sure, it was somebody big, but I’d seen high school students who were that big. Just look at any football team, and you’ll see plenty of them. I stopped worrying about whether I had a stalker, and went back to concentrating on my experiments.