by Lily Robins
They had gotten up before dawn, showered together, then folded up the blankets, stuffed the towels in the washer, and she had hidden the bottle of massage oil in her bathroom cabinet. After she’d fixed coffee and scrambled eggs with toast for their hurried breakfast, they stopped at Roman’s house so that he could put on his boots and cold weather gear, and grab his walking stick.
He remained below the giant rock, on the strip of sand where rivulets of Atlantic water edged between and rippled over the pebble-strewn beach. Beyond where they were situated, sprays from the waves that crested and crashed onshore caused some visual difficulty. He was wearing his eyeglasses, something Jess had never seen before, and she had remarked that he looked totally professorial.
He felt energized from having slept like a log for over six hours, not waking even once. She had managed to flip off all of his “lights” after another lovemaking session that had been languidly luxurious. The wine had facilitated their unhurried caresses—touching, tasting, loving each other’s bodies, culminating in a sideways union that was as unhurried as it was ultimately fulfilling. Minutes later, they had both fallen fast asleep.
She was now cycling shots of the herring gulls and Atlantic terns, while barely moving at all, and looking from a distance like the crest of the dark brown boulder she sat perched upon. Being patient was something essential that they had both learned in their chosen professions. He and Jess were as compatible in that regard as they were in every other way that he could imagine. Both were meticulous in their own ways, but her attention to detail, whether the details were about him, or the kids, but also about her work, was extraordinary, and an integral part of her personality.
For over an hour, Roman stood propped against the base of the rock, content to watch clams wash up and then bury themselves beneath the mud again, as crabs skittered along the pebbled beach, feeding on tiny organisms that were too small to see. Occasionally, Jess or he would quietly make conversation.
“Wild thing,” he sang in a deep, low voice, “you make my heart sing.”
“Massaging each other with scented oil is not wild,” she replied.
“This was only our third date, Ms. Wentworth,” he teased.
“As I recall, you weren’t too displeased. I guess I could tone things down...”
“Oh please don’t!” he said in exaggerated panic.
“Look!”
Roman slowly turned from facing toward the bluff to see, above the ocean’s spray, a small colony of what looked to be Atlantic puffins. They began descending, a few of them landing on rocks beneath the bluff, while the rest of the colony swooped above it. He could hear the cycling, rapid clicking from Jess’s digital camera. As soon as the birds landed on the rocky inland shore and began waddling around on their colorful orange legs and webbed feet, Roman knew the wait had been well worth it. Their distinctive red, blue and yellow bills on their black and white bodies were an extraordinary sight to see.
Not a word, or sound was exchanged. Roman stood perfectly still, and except for camera clicks, he knew Jess was continuing to remain as immovable as possible too. The camouflage was evidently working. If he took just a few steps out from the rock, Roman could almost touch one of the puffins before it took flight.
After several more minutes, he became aware that her clicking sounds had stopped, and was startled when she came up behind him.
He whispered, “How’d you get down?”
“I jumped, and landed on my feet in all that foam.” He was impressed and slowly turned until he faced her. She was tightly holding her camera to her chest as they kissed.
“These will be awesome,” she said. “Thank you for being my scout and for having such patience. Now how do we get away from here?”
“We have no choice but to disturb them, but this is obviously a small colony of early nesters who’ll come right back to the cliffs. An increase in the ocean’s temperature has prompted their early return.”
Moving toward the path that would take them up the bluff, Roman and Jess made no erratic movements. They walked single file in slow motion with their arms tucked closely to their bodies. Their precautions were unsuccessful, however, and the puffins took flight with others of their small colony. As predicted, they didn’t stay airborne for long and began to return—two, and then four, and then most of the colony. They would shortly initiate the rituals of courtship and mating before burrowing into the cliffside to make their nests.
“You know a great deal about birds,” Jess commented as they began to ascend the wooded trail.
“I like to know about the good things that happen in the natural world,” Roman said.
“Me too,” she replied. “You’ll never catch me filming predator animals that kill innocents. I’ll leave that to those who have the stomachs and the hearts for it.”
“I’m glad to know that,” he said, smiling and euphoric in her presence as they walked abreast up the incline.
They were near his house when the first shot rang out.
“Get down!” Roman yelled, pushing Jess to the ground with him as another shot volleyed perilously close to his ear. He could actually hear it hit something behind them. He placed as much of his body over hers as he could without crushing her, while his heart raced furiously, and his mind switched to survival mode. They were on a slight decline near the cliff, with a rocky, forty-foot drop-off behind them. He fished out his cell and called 911.
He spoke to whoever was working dispatch at the constable’s station, speaking low and in abbreviated form, looking straight at Jess’s horrified face. Seconds later, another shot hit a rock barely six feet from them, spitting out a spray of rock grit directly into their faces. Roman dropped the phone and told Jess what they had to do. Together, they inched backward, eventually managing to lower themselves over the cliff feet first.
*****
The loud sound of sirens approaching had obviously deterred the shooter from advancing and picking off two people standing on a thin rock ledge, holding on to whatever they could to avoid falling. Jess was afraid to breathe, and so much grit had lodged in her eyes, that she couldn’t even see Roman’s face. He of course had known that the ledge was there, but had never considered using it. It was too risky, but it was all he could think to do. He wasn’t sure that it was stable enough, or that his large, booted feet wouldn’t slip on it, but as soon as he heard shouting above them, somewhere near his house, he began to believe that he and Jess were going to make it.
“Hold on, Sweetheart,” he said.
“I can’t see—my eyes.” Jess was trembling so badly that Roman reached over and managed to touch one of her hands, but, only briefly, before the movement threatened to throw him off balance.
“Please don’t fall!” she cried out.
John Jacobson, the senior constable for Whittler Island, peered over the ledge and shouted out, “Roman? What the hell?”
“Someone’s shooting at us and he may still be here! We need a rope!” he yelled.
*****
Two men from the port authority took Jess and Roman to the mainland hospital on a speed boat owned by the ferry services. An ambulance awaited them at dockside, holding up the ferry run by a few minutes for the transfer. The ambulance attendant applied an icy compress to Jess’s eyes, while she quietly cried from the pain and the trauma of a near-death experience. Roman borrowed a phone and began calling his mother every two or three minutes to warn her that she and Molly could be in danger. He’d had no luck thus far. It occurred to him that he was still wearing his glasses, which by chance had functioned as a crucial barrier that had spared him from an eye injury similar to Jess’s.
The doctor on duty in the ER at the mainland hospital began flushing out Jess’s eyes with a mixture of ophthalmic solution and water, while Roman held her hand. Someone at the hospital had called in the ophthalmologist that Julia Mayer used, a female doctor by the name of Diane Franklin, who knew Roman and those in his family well. Taking charge, she began by putting numbing d
rops in both of Jess’s eyes, which took away the excruciating discomfort she was in, and which allowed her trembling to gradually subside.
“I’ve got to pick out the particles that are lodged in your sclera and conjunctiva, Ms. Leitner. And I’m going to need more space,” she added, looking at Roman.
“I’ll be right outside,” he assured her.
“I’m not feeling anything at the moment,” Jess told him. “Check on everyone…Molly and your mom.”
Outside the room, Cheryl stood anxiously waiting. He wasn’t surprised to see her standing there, and they hugged in relief.
“Eli’s over at your place, assisting John Jacobson with the forensics.”
“Where’s Mom and Molly?” Roman rapidly asked.
“She, Molly and Mona are in the waiting area with the boys, Roman. They’re all safe. Tell me what happened and who could have done this?”
“I don’t have a clue,” he said. Knowing that his mother and the children were okay relieved him so much that he sagged against the wall.
“Easy there, Big Brother,” Cheryl said, grabbing one of his arms. “What about that female client who you said might be stalking you?”
With some of his adrenaline rush beginning to subside, Roman said, “I…I don’t think it was her. I was worried sick…”
“I know,” Cheryl lamented. “We got Mom, Molly and Mona off the island first thing. Where’s your phone?”
Fishing in his jacket and shirt’s pockets, but not finding his phone, he said, “I must have dropped it.”
“You’ve got dirt all over you—and it’s in your hair…”
Automatically, Roman brushed some of the grit from the front of his hair, having to bend forward to get it off, and he said, “We went over the cliff.”
Gasping, Cheryl muttered, “You did WHAT?”
Roman began telling his sister what happened. He haltingly recounted that three shots had been fired, and described how close each had come to hitting him, or Jess, then adding, “We had no other choice really, other than to slide over,” before relating the rest of the harrowing ordeal.
“That probably saved your lives, and whoever was shooting at you two heard Jacobson’s siren coming and tucked tail, rather than walk to the edge. What’s the woman’s name?”
“I’ve got to see the kids and Mom,” he said, ignoring Cheryl’s inquiry.
Cheryl led her brother down the hallway to the waiting area. Molly and Mona were the first to rush toward him, the young girl crying and Mona wagging her tail. However, the dog held her reaction to a minimum, allowing the emotional vibes she was sensing between the humans to take precedence. Roman dropped to his knees to embrace both of them.
“She’s okay, she got some stuff in her eyes,” Roman assured Molly. “Your mom will be out in a little while.” He held Molly to him, soaking her and Mona’s presence into his being, and then looking up to see Aden, Danny and Patrick, and his mother standing there too. Motioning for Aden, he stood again, and that was when Roman was rendered helpless to hold back tears. They embraced each other, with the boy sobbing against his shoulder.
“She got dirt in her eyes—the doctor’s cleaning them out,” Roman managed to say through his own emotional torrent. He held the boy tightly to him, thinking of how much the two children had already gone through, losing their father, and now, almost losing their mother too, both from senseless gun violence.
Danny and Patrick hugged their uncle, both with solemn faces that broke into relieved smiles once they made contact. Julia Mayer stood waiting with a stoic look of concern. Carefully, Roman embraced her, feeling her small arms go around him with a surprising degree of strength. As tears rolled down her cheeks, she said, “I heard Ferrell McLean, that young constable, say that you and Jess went over the cliff. Wait until I give that young man a piece of my mind for saying such a thing!”
CHAPTER 30
There was no going back.
No one in the Mayer or Leitner families was allowed to return to Whittler Island until the police caught the shooter who, it was reported, was still stalking the landmass, randomly shooting at people as they emerged from their homes. That bit of information was conveyed through local gossip, not only by the Merry Geezers, minus one, but also by a host of other residents. Everyone locked their doors, something they didn’t always do, or forgot to do when visitors were few during the winter months. Hardly anyone, including kids, were seen outside Whittler Island homes. Even the owner of Mayer’s Fresh Market, which was the hub for local “news,” put up a sign on the door that said his store was closing before night fell. Albert Kromer, the store’s owner, patrolled the aisles with a loaded gun stuck in the waistband of his pants.
After Eli and John Jacobson were sure that they’d gotten all they could in the way of ballistics and forensic samples, Eli packaged up the shell casings and the rest, and sent everything with a sergeant on his force to the police lab in Portland. They also managed to retrieve not only Roman’s cell phone and Jess’s camera, but also Roman’s walking stick. Eli also went inside Roman’s house again, after his forensics specialist had finished dusting for fingerprints, and the captain of the police force retrieved a few items of clothing for Roman, plus Mona’s food. He found Jess’s purse there on the counter, which contained her keys, and went by her place, after locking up Roman’s house. He had amassed quite a load after stopping by his mother-in-law’s house too, but had found some overnight bags that prevented things from becoming a jumbled heap in the backseat of his vehicle.
John Jacobson and Ferrell McLean drove Jess and Roman’s vehicles down to the ferry docks, and two mainland police officers followed Eli home with them. The family assembled at the captain’s house by the time the day turned to dusk.
When first arriving, Jess was led to the family room sofa by her children. Her eyes were fiery red, but she could now see, and expressed her gratefulness to Dr. Franklin after the procedure was completed. She called her Aunt Ruth and the woman began crying with relief, hardly able to say a word. Aden and Molly stuck close to their mother, unwilling to allow her out of their sight. Roman was again reminded of how much the kids had endured and how badly he felt for them having to experience, yet again, another traumatic event.
Cheryl and Julia were in the kitchen preparing dinner when Eli walked in with an armload of luggage. Roman and Patrick helped him carry in all the rest, and Eli told Roman how far the investigation had gotten.
“We’ll know tomorrow about the shell casings we found, and any unaccounted for fingerprints inside your place. The shooter used 6.5-millimeter cartridges—somethin’ a sniper…might use.” Eli shook his head, and then looked plainly at Roman. “Unless you’ve got some wacko as a patient…scuse me—client of yours, this has got to relate to Jessica’s mess in Seattle with that brother-in-law of hers.”
Jess walked in to the kitchen where Eli and Roman were standing, Eli doing a quick examination of the injury to her eyes. “Both of you are damn lucky to be standing here—but I’ll bet you knew that already.” His troubled look overrode his stab at humor.
“We know,” Roman replied, pulling Jess beneath an arm.
Eli looked at Jess, and she said, “I think it has to do with Bill Leitner. Maybe he’s hired someone.”
Eli volleyed back, “If he hired someone, it appears the man musta got off the island before we could start checkin’ everybody’s ID. The city’s locked down pretty tight too.”
“I don’t put anything past him,” she said.
Eli led them into the vacant dining room where the large table hadn’t yet been set, they took seats, and then, he resumed his questions.
“There’s absolutely no record of Leitner flyin’ in to Portland on either a private or commercial airliner in the last few days. Was he ever in the military, or do you know if he likes to compete in shooting competitions?”
Jess began shaking her head. “Bill’s personal history…I don’t know much about it. He’s a couple years older than Gary was, he and
his second wife moved to Seattle about ten years ago from Sacramento. I never heard him say anything about being in the military.”
“You were shot at with a rifle this mornin,’ and the person hid beneath those pine trees before you drive up to your house, Roman. We found pine straw matted down where he lay on his belly to aim his rifle. Like I said, the spent cartridge is from a 6.5 millimeter shot, a caliber that snipers like to use.”
Roman said, “Someone’s been walking around my house at night. There have been footprints on the wet soil.”
Cheryl brought plates in to the table while commenting, “I had an officer check those out. They’re a size 9—but hard to tell if they’re made by a man or a woman.” Cheryl looked at Roman.
Looking around to make sure that the kids weren’t nearby and listening, Roman very quietly said, “That client’s got illusions of me being a lover for her—but there’s no way she’d know how to use a sniper’s gun to try to shoot me, or Jess. She’s transferred feelings onto me from somewhere—or someone else in her past. Tess Gilliland is seeing her now because I refused to deal with her after she acted out in my office.”
Both Eli and Cheryl heard the undeniable anger surfacing in Roman’s voice. Jess sat stunned, unable to move. Eli checked again to make sure the kids were still downstairs in the rec room before he asked, “What’d she do when she acted out, Bro?”
With his eyes no longer placid, Roman glared back at Cheryl and then stopped at Eli. Through gritted teeth, he said, “She partially undressed in my office. Rene had to escort her out.”
Cheryl asked, “Has she made any other overtures or scenes?”
“Once,” Roman divulged. “On the steps in front of my office…recently.” Roman felt positive that this inquiry was the wrong avenue to go down.
Eli must have thought so too. His focus returned to Jess. “Jess, I think you’ve been in danger for a while now, and I’m wonderin’ if Leitner would go to these extreme measures to gain control of your former husband’s investment company.”