by David Boiani
Clouds moved slowly in covering the moon for periods as the forest turned even darker. He heard some movement in the bush to his left and heard the low, deep grunt of a black bear. For the first time, he was glad he was ten feet off the ground. A storm cloud opened up, sending a symphony of raindrops through the trees.
22:21:03, 22:21:02, 22:21:01…
John left the restaurant with a tension headache brewing at the base of his skull. He arrived at a quiet house with the children already asleep in their beds. Julie was also asleep with an open book sprawled on her chest. John carefully picked the book up, slid the bookmark inside, and placed it on the nightstand. John walked into the bathroom, shut the door quietly and studied his reflection in the mirror. His thoughts returned to an evening almost thirty years ago.
July 22, 1988. Seattle, Washington…
John Corbin was a rookie cop on the Seattle Police force. He had responded to a call about a disturbance on his beat. Unbeknownst to John, someone had taken a young woman hostage in an apartment complex on the top floor. John walked up to room 412 and knocked on the door. “Help!” he heard followed by a muffled smack and, “Shut up bitch!” John pulled his gun and kicked in the door. He saw, straight through the living room on the balcony, a silhouette of a man holding a woman at gunpoint. John quickly moved behind a wall.
“Drop the gun!” John yelled.
“I’m going to kill this bitch and then jump! Leave, pig!” This was the first situation that John had encountered which was more serious than the usual traffic violation or minor domestic disturbance. He had been on the beat for only a month, and now he was being thrown straight into the fire. John called it in. Dispatch informed him that backup including Detective Johnson was on his way, but John didn’t think he could wait. This man was dangerous and on edge.
“Sir, please let the girl go. You and I can handle this.”
“Why would I do that? I want to send a message to all the people that disrespected me, laughed at me, and treated me like shit. Taking her with me will do just that!”
“Let her go and take me instead. What better way to make a statement than to take out a cop? I’m putting my gun down. Let her go, and I will come forward to you.”
John was surprised to find the perp accept his offer. He let the girl go, and John took her place. He pulled John to the edge of the balcony to the increasing gasps of the growing crowd that had formed below.
“I have to give you credit copper, you got guts,” the man said as he put the gun to John’s head. “But why? Why would you give your life for another?”
“Reasons I’m sure you would never understand. It’s my duty and who I am,” The perp gave a little sly grin, like he thought John an idiot and pushed the gun against his temple. A shot rang out into the warm, humid, summer Seattle air. John opened his eyes and was shocked to discover he was still alive. The perp had fallen on the balcony with a lone gunshot wound through his head. John turned and saw Detective Johnson lowering his weapon.
“Damn rookie, you’ve got a pair of brass balls. You saved her life, son. Good work.”
“Yeah, and you saved mine,” John breathed.
“Maybe, but what you just did is the kind of thing that gets remembered on this force. I won’t forget it.”
Detective Johnson would become captain within three years.
21:38:03, 21:38:02, 21:38:01…
Ricky made his way into the feds office to speak with Agent Daniels. Since Ricky’s little maneuver in the tunnel, Daniels had been working on reigning the young detective in. Ricky knew without the captain here to run the show and filter him from the feds, he was now open game. He walked in and sat across the desk from Daniels who got up, shut the door and sat back down.
“Detective Burton, now that Mr. Johnson is currently unavailable, I will assume full control of this investigation. Another stunt like the last one you pulled, and I will suspend you, understood?”
“Yes,” Ricky answered to the icy stare of his superior.
“Anything you hear, see, feel, or think about this case will be forwarded to me. We have two homicides, five abductions already, and a good man’s life hangs in the balance. I don’t want this video feed in anybody’s hands but who I approve beforehand. We need to work together in an orderly, structured pattern. Your rogue, cowboy bullshit will not work and will not be tolerated. Again, do you understand?”
“Absolutely, sir.”
Daniels looked at him with the coldest, untrusting stare Ricky had ever seen or felt, but he kept his head high and matched the agent’s cold gaze with his own.
“That will be all.”
Ricky got up, opened the door and took one step out before Daniels called to him.
“Oh, and Burton…”
Ricky turned around with a guarded look.
“I’m watching you.”
Ricky shut the door and walked away.
19:35:03, 19:35:02, 19:35:01…
Somehow, in just under four and a half hours the press got wind of the captain’s abduction. Ricky believed there was a leak somewhere in the dozen federal agents now assigned to the case. The national news has shown up and demanded a presser. The case had grown nationally to gigantic proportions, as a couple of prime-time news programs were in town to dedicate full shows on “The Seattle Slayer.” Agent Daniels set up a conference in front of the station to answer questions.
“Agent Daniels, is it true Captain Michael Johnson has been abducted?”
“At this time, we cannot confirm that.”
“Is Detective Corbin still involved?”
“No, Detective Corbin is on leave from the force.”
“Do you have any more info on who The Seattle Slayer is and what he wants?”
“I cannot share any info on our subject at this time. He is a very disturbed individual who needs to be apprehended and brought to justice.”
“Do you have a profile you are working off of?”
“Yes. Caucasian male, twenty-five to forty-five, extremely unstable and extremely dangerous. Now, ladies and gentlemen, I have an investigation to lead. Good day.”
Daniels walked away from the cameras and microphones and back into the station. He gave Ricky another wintry look as he passed, then entered his office, concluding the whole spectacle with a violent slam of the door.
18:10:03, 18:10:02, 18:10:01…
John lay in bed with a motley cluster of thoughts racing through his head. He imagined his comrade and good friend alone, waiting to die. He glanced over at Julie who was resting comfortably in a deep sleep. He got up and headed downstairs to pour himself a glass of scotch. He settled on the sofa with his drink in front of him, set his head back, and recalled a moment long ago.
January 4, 1990. Seattle, Washington…
John Corbin walked into Captain Johnson’s office and stood in front of his desk. Michael Johnson had received a well-earned promotion from detective to captain on December 17h; he then spent the following two weeks adjusting his police force to fit his needs.
“Officer Corbin… John, sit down.”
“Thank you, sir.”
The captain wasted no time on ceremony. “I am going to promote you to detective effective immediately. I’ve watched you and witnessed an officer dedicated to his service of his civilians, a man driven to find the truth, and have justice served. I believe in my instincts, and they tell me you’re ready for the next challenge in your career. I believe this city would benefit and this force would benefit with you having more responsibility, free to use your intelligence and drive to solve cases instead of chasing criminals on the streets.”
“Thank you, captain.”
“Of course, the promotion comes with a package including a salary raise and a slew of additional benefits that I would be happy to go over with you. Do you accept my offer?”
“I do, it’s what I’ve wanted from my first day. Thank you, captain.”
“You earned it, son. Welcome aboard.”
John held h
is glass up to the light and admired the golden, amber hue of the scotch, then finished it off before pouring another.
17:47:03, 17:47:02, 17:47:01…
Ricky glanced through the front windows as a mob of journalists, reporters, columnists, and civilians gathered, waiting to ask questions. With the rumors of the captain’s abduction, the case of The Seattle Slayer had risen to enormous proportions and members of the press were eager to ask questions of anyone who may have any inside information on the case. Ricky noticed Daniels had no intention of appeasing the press and making another appearance until he had no choice. Ricky disliked Daniels and his heavy-handed way of running things. Captain Johnson was more liberal, more democratic; and although some may think that would cause him to obtain less from his workers, his methods worked very well. There is something to be said for letting people breathe and use their own intelligence and instincts, and Captain Johnson had mastered that balance. Ricky already missed him. Not only as a boss, but also as a life mentor and father figure. He knew without Captain Johnson’s leadership and John’s experience and intuition, the chances of rescuing him were slim. Ricky checked the video feed and watched as rain continued to fall on the lonesome man whose head was as erect and alert as ever. He will never give up, he doesn’t know how to, Ricky thought, as he heard the rain start to fall outside the Seattle Police Department Headquarters. If it has been raining in the video for four hours, he must be west of here. The storm clouds are slow moving and heading east. He must be in the Olympic Forest. The problem is the Olympic Forest is huge, almost fifteen hundred square miles.
He noticed something else from the feed; there was no sound of the rain hitting the leaves and ground. The killer had turned it off. All the others had sound. He reasoned to himself that it was to ensure no communication from the captain in any way through the video. Ricky stood and headed for Daniel’s office to fill him in on his thoughts.
17:01:03, 17:01:02, 17:01:01…
Michael felt the showers slow to a stop as the clouds moved east. He was sheltered from most of the rain by the heavy tree cover but he was wet and could feel some water trickle down his face and neck. How we take for granted the use of our limbs until it’s gone, he thought, as the desire to wipe the rivulets of water became obsessive. So, this is what water torture feels like.
A soft breeze kicked up out of the west and the scent of pine and fresh rain filled his nasal passages. For a moment he felt free, with nothing but the sights, sounds, and aromas of nature saturating his senses.
16:30:03, 16:30:02, 16:30:01…
John couldn’t sleep. He sat on the sofa, nursing another scotch and watching the national news station air a quick report on the rumors that The Seattle Slayer had abducted Michael Johnson, the Seattle Police Captain. The report mentioned how John and his children, along with Brain Simmons, had survived their abductions. The report concluded by mentioning the case was now being run by Agent Daniels, and the hope was he would apprehend the killer. John closed his eyes and thought of another memory.
November 13, 2014…
“Last night I strangled Silas Alvah to death. He killed Todd, Jacqueline, and their unborn child. He was there the night they died. I have proof of this on Todd’s cell phone. He confessed to me that he did it right before I ended his life. I wanted to keep innocent people safely out of his reach, and this was the only way to do that without the risk of him getting free again. I wanted to bring him to justice, to give his victims the revenge they all deserved. Sir, I don’t know if it was the right thing to do, but sitting here now, I wouldn’t change it. I would do it all again. If I need to pay for what I’ve done, so be it. But I’d do it all again, exactly the same way.”
The captain sat there and looked at John for what seemed to be an eternity. He then got up, paced the room, then sat back down across from John, still speechless. Finally, he got up and walked out without uttering a word. John assumed that a few of his brethren, his brothers, would be in to arrest him and take him away. John waited. No arrest came. No captain. Nothing.
Finally, the door opened, and the captain walked back in and sat down.
“Although I feel your actions were wrong and you have lost your way as a detective and a cop, I’m keeping this between you and me. I know what you’re made of. You are a hero. From the first time I saw you put your life on the line to save an innocent woman, I knew it. I can’t arrest you. I won’t let them arrest you and convict you. In the structure of the law, what you did was a crime, but somewhere deep inside my soul, what you did gives me a bright, healthy feeling. Hell, maybe I’ve been doing this too long as well. I will cover up the Silas Alvah killing. This is my decision, not yours. It’s over.”
“Sir, I don’t know if that is the correct way to handle this,” John had said.
“Do you ever want to see your children again? They need you. It’s over. My decision is made. This world is a better place with you in it. This world is a better place with you in it as a free man. It’s over.”
John brought his hands to his face as the memories occupied his mind. Captain Johnson time and again stood by him and stuck his neck out because he believed in the person John was. It was hard to forget that now, even with his family involved.
15:05:03, 15:05:02, 15:05:01…
“Agent Daniels, I believe Captain Johnson is being held in the Olympic Forest,” Ricky said as he sat in front of Agent Daniel’s desk.
“Why do you think that, Burton?”
“I studied the weather pattern, along with the types and volume of the trees in the video.”
“Burton, when are weather patterns consistent enough to use as evidence? Also, if I’m not mistaken, that type of flora is found all over Washington State, is it not?”
“It is, just not in that size or density. It’s a gut feeling, sir, an instinct.”
“Burton, we don’t base investigations on gut feelings; you should know better than that.”
“At one time, I would have agreed with you, but someone I respect very much has taught me otherwise.”
“Even if this improbable idea is correct, do you realize how big the Olympic Forest is? That search would take days, if not weeks. We have just over fifteen hours.”
“I know. We need to narrow it down somehow. I just wanted to pass my theory on to you,” Ricky said as he rose to leave Agent Daniel’s office.
“Burton, if you can expand on your theory or your gut instinct, be sure to fill me in.”
“Will do, sir,” Ricky answered before walking out.
13:48:03, 13:48:02, 13:48:01…
The ringtone of John’s cell chimed. He picked it up and hit the green button to answer even though he had no recollection of the number.
“Hello?”
“John? This is Sarah Johnson.”
John immediately sat up. “Hi Mrs. Johnson, I’m so sorry—”
“Thank you,” she said, cutting him off before he could finish. “John, I am not calling you to ask you to save my husband. Michael told me your reasons for leaving the case and I understand your decision perfectly well. Family is the most important thing in this world, and you need to protect yours at all costs.”
“Thank you, ma’am.”
“Having said that, you know Michael means the world to me and I would very much appreciate if you could relay to me any information you discover about him. Detective Burton hasn’t said much, and I believe Agent Daniels has muzzled the entire force. I don’t like that man one bit.”
“Sarah, I’ll fill you in on anything I can find out. I know I don’t have to tell you how close I am to your husband. He’s my mentor and older brother. I owe everything to him.”
“He speaks very highly of you, John. He always had from your first week on the force, years ago.” John could hear muffled sobs and at that moment he closed his eyes and prayed for the safety of his boss. “I just can’t imagine life without him. I’m sorry.” She was crying freely now.
“No need to be sorry, I understand. I�
�ll do everything I can to help him.”
“I need to go now but thank you for listening.”
She hung up and John looked at his phone as the line disconnected. He placed it down and lay back as the soothing effects of the scotch numbed his grief. He knew Sarah would never call him to persuade him to get involved. He believed her when she said she understood and respected his decision. However, he felt guilt when he thought about her husband and his friend whose life was being held captive in the hands of a ruthless killer.
12:00:03, 12:00:02, 12:00:01…
Ricky waited for a message containing the clue that would hopefully lead them to Captain Johnson. He watched the screen in anticipation, but nothing came. He checked the time counting down on the video feed: 11:58:03.
Is it just late? he wondered, although the un-sub had been meticulously punctual. Something was definitely off. He then went into his own email and there was a new message from an unknown source. He eagerly opened it:
Hi again, Detective Burton. I’m sure you are wondering why I have changed the usual protocol and sent this directly to you. I have a plan and I know Daniels would have interfered with it once he saw my demands. This is what I want and what you will do if you ever want to see your beloved chief again.