by Jonas Saul
“We done with helping the police on this one?”
Aaron had probably waited all morning for her to wake up and ask that. When she finally got home yesterday, DeOcampo said she was staying another week and wanted to meet with Sarah later today to talk about the others that Vivian warned Sarah about. She had other questions she wanted to cover, but not until she did some background checks on something.
Sarah had called her babysitter, who happened to live in the building and was currently an unemployed blackbelt that Aaron had approved of, and confirmed her to come at noon and stay until either Aaron or Sarah got home.
But last night she hadn’t told Aaron any of that. They’d watched a movie to take their minds off the day, cuddled in bed, made love, and fell asleep after one-thirty.
“Actually,” she started, the coffee cup in front of her mouth. “I’m meeting with DeOcampo this afternoon.”
He grimaced like it was painful to hear that, but she carried on and told him all of her plans.
“I’ll be fine, Aaron. We don’t need to call everyone in on this one. It’s a murder, a police investigation. It has nothing to do with me personally or a fight for us to stay alive like some of the past issues we’ve dealt with.” She lowered her cup to the kitchen table, and placed a hand over his. “We have Willow now, and we talked about this. No more dangerous exploits. No more dangerous risks. This one’s just me advising the cops.” She pulled her hand away and stared down into her coffee. “It still takes a toll, but at least it isn’t a physical one.”
“And this is something you feel you have to do?”
Sarah stared into his eyes, the man who had been through so much, and remembered that he’d also lost so much. His sister was dead, too. And whoever sent Detective Hunter that letter knew about Joanne and what happened to her so long ago.
“Aaron, I will stay in this fight until the end, and not only because of the brutal way in which that pastor and his wife were killed—that cop, too—but because whoever is doing this referenced your sister and said I inspired them. For that alone, I’m responsible to stick with this, help in any way I can.”
He nodded his understanding, but in his eyes she saw reluctance. It seemed Aaron was always fighting something on the inside. Maybe that was why he turned to martial arts at such a young age, to fight out the pain—or fight through it.
“Anything you need from us, let me know.” Aaron set his iPad down. “Since Melody is coming to babysit and you’re out, I’ll head to the dojo and brief everyone on what you’re dealing with in case you call and need something.”
She gripped his hand again, thankful he wasn’t fighting her on this one.
“I appreciate that. When I’m done with DeOcampo today, I’ll get her to drop me off at the dojo.”
He nodded, snatched up his iPad, and moved toward the door, kissing her on the side of the neck as he passed.
“Anything else from your sister?”
She spun around too fast, flaring her headache.
Aaron leaned against the wall by the open doorway to the kitchen.
“Nothing since I relayed her portent about more of Hunter’s friends being in trouble.”
“How did he take that?”
“With a sense of urgency. He was on his phone in seconds and running for his car. Likely he’ll have plenty of time to warn anyone he knows because he’ll be off the case now.”
Aaron’s brows rose. “Right, he knew the pastor. Must’ve been hard on him.”
Sarah nodded, folding her lips inward. “It was.”
“Take a pill for that headache, baby.”
“I will.”
Then Aaron was gone toward the bedroom to get ready. Moments later, she heard the shower, then a phone ringing somewhere.
She jumped up from the table so fast, her eyes slammed shut in pain.
“Fuck,” she whispered, moving from the kitchen.
“Mommy,” Willow shouted.
“Headache.”
“Oh, okay. I see.” Then Willow was quiet, which in that moment made Sarah grateful for her daughter’s gifts. When she said see, she literally meant she could see in her head what Sarah was enduring.
In the bedroom, the phone rang its fourth time before Sarah picked it up.
“Hello,” she whispered into the phone to avoid more head pain.
“Did I wake you?” Parkman asked.
“No, splitting headache is all.”
“Oh, sorry to hear. Got a minute?”
“Sure.”
“It’s all over the news how you led the police to three bodies yesterday. That true?”
“No … yes, well maybe, but not really.”
“Oh, okay, well, what can you tell me? Or should I come over?”
“Meet me at the police station for 13:00? That way I can be rid of this headache and we’ll speak with DeOcampo together.”
“DeOcampo?” There was a large intake of air on the other end. “She’s still here?”
“The murder thing kept her here.”
“More Bartleson shit?”
“No, long story. Too painful to tell now.” Her voice was lowering, her eyes shut. Tablet sooner than later.
“Too painful as in emotionally?”
“No. Headache.”
“Right.” His voice lowered. “Got it. Okay, see you at one.”
Sarah clicked off without another word, then moved into their en suite for the ibuprofen.
She couldn’t get the Joanne connection out of her head. Without asking Aaron for more details and bringing up a painful past, she’d ventured online to research his sister, but that proved a dead end. Joanne was murdered almost fourteen years ago. Other than the name Clive Baron and a few other minor details regarding her disappearance and subsequent murder, Sarah found nothing talking about the life she had lived, where she may have worked, or hung out. You had to know someone who knew them to learn that. Or possibly hire a private detective to search deeper, find a database with information that was hard for the public to access—if that was even possible.
Hence the reason she needed Parkman in on this.
He could investigate who could possibly know Joanne, then link that list back to her and cross reference it to who would know Detective Hunter, Pastor Blair, and where they used to hang out as teenagers. That list had to be small. Maybe if they went back far enough, they’d learn that Hunter and Blair knew Joanne Stevens. It was quite possible after all. Perhaps Joanne was arrested in the past, and Hunter was the arresting officer. Or maybe she sought religious help, and Blair was her pastor. Did Joanne ever have a roommate? Who were Joanne’s best friends?
Whatever the answers were, Aaron and Sarah were in this until the end. Even if there had been no letter delivered to Hunter, Vivian was making sure that Sarah remained close to this case.
Yet, something kept bringing her back to Hunter. Like he was the nexus of this whole thing, the central connecting factor.
Could it simply be someone he wronged in the past looking for revenge? If so, why didn’t the murderer kill him? Why would they kill his friends?
Killing a man of God was a bold statement.
One thing was for sure, whoever they were dealing with was a sick individual, one filled with the depravity Vivian kept muttering about.
Her sister also said it would get much worse before it ended—much worse.
Sarah took four tablets and got dressed, hoping they could get ahead of this thing, but knowing there was no chance.
Death was coming today for someone else and there was nothing Sarah could do to stop it because Vivian wasn’t being forthcoming enough. Her sister knew the when and where, but remained silent on the issue.
As if death was somehow necessary.
Sarah’s argument to her sister was based on, why tell me in the first place, then?
Yet her sister refused to add more information. She just kept filling Sarah with a nagging dread, a darkness that embodied her consciousness, making her feel as if she was dead inside.
Like the letter left for Hunter said, I’m already dead. So I will kill until I’m killed.
“You’re giving me a fucking headache, sis. Time to flit away and leave my head alone. Come back when you’ve got something useful to offer.”
Ten minutes later, her headache was gone.
She said her goodbyes to Aaron when he left, played with Willow until the babysitter arrived, then took a taxi to the police station ready for the day, ready for however more murders were coming.
If one could ever be ready for that.
Chapter 12
William Mason helped his wife into her parachute.
“You got this, babe.”
“I’m so nervous.” She kept her voice down so none of the other jumpers could hear her.
William eased in closer and whispered in her ear. “Since this is a tandem jump, almost everything will be done for you. Nothing to worry about.”
“Yeah, except for that arch thing and those leg lifts at the end, it’ll be a breeze.”
“Honey.” He turned her to face him, his hands on her shoulders. “Your instructor will make sure your harness is on correctly, and it is secure, guaranteeing your safety. Then you jump with him. After a minute or so of free fall, your instructor will open the chute. Five to six minutes later he’ll offer you a soft landing with instructions spoken directly into your ear if and when needed. Trust me, I’ve done this hundreds of times. It’s super easy, and extraordinarily fun.”
“I hate when you do that.”
“Do what?” he asked, then placed a hand on his chest and gasped, sounding immensely surprised in case any of the other newbies heard her talking to him like that.
“You speak about yourself in the third person when you’re the instructor.”
“Julie.” He lowered his voice. “Trust me, and if that’s too hard, trust the instructor in me. You know I’ve done this successfully hundreds of times and taught dozens and dozens of people how to do this with tandem jumps. You are in good hands.”
She bobbed her head up and down and checked the tightness of the straps. “I’m sorry. Just, so nervous.”
“I know.” He wrapped her in his big arms. “We got this. I’m just so happy you’re doing this jump. Been a long time coming.”
She pulled out of his grasp. “I’m doing one jump. That’s it. I have to see why you love this so much, and also to stop your nagging me all the time about doing this. I’m here. Once.” She stamped her right foot like a small child with a temper.
He hugged her again. “And for that, I’m thankful.”
“Okay everyone,” William said, his voice rising above the din of chatter. “Let’s all make our way out to the Twin Otter.”
“The Twin Otter?” one woman asked.
He was sure her name was Mary, but couldn’t trust that, as he was usually terrible with names.
“The plane that’s taking us skyward is called a Twin Otter.”
People moved out of the building while William counted heads. Nineteen in total was a good group for a Monday. The sun was shining and not a cloud was in the sky. It was one of the better weather days for a jump. Sure his wife was antsy, but when the jump was over, she’d be so thrilled she did it, he figured Julie would want to come back and do it again.
Buttonville Airport was a great place to jump from because of the open fields and vast countryside to view on the way down. The only turning in his stomach was the excited anticipation of the jump they were about to do. Similar to that thrill when the roller coaster started up the first ramp after having waited an hour to get on it. They were finally there, minutes away from heading up, the moment upon them.
William helped everyone into the plane as the twin engines fired up.
“Okay folks,” he said as he closed the large side door. “Settle in for the short ride to the proper altitude and enjoy the view. This twin engine plane was built for us.” His excitement grew each time he gave this speech. He glanced at his watch. “We’ll be at the proper altitude in about fifteen minutes. Experienced jumpers go first.” The plane started moving at a crawl as it taxied to the runway. “Tandem jumpers next. I’ll go last with my partner.” He held on as the plane turned hard right and then straightened. “Here we go. Enjoy the view.”
William sat beside his wife. “You doing okay?”
She nodded in lieu of an answer, facing forward toward the cockpit instead of watching out the window. He chose to leave her in her own world instead of forcing her to look out the window as the De Havilland got underway.
The bumps of the runway dissipated as they left the tarmac, and then the air acted as a cushion on a carpet, giving them a smooth incline. This area was void of large hills or mountains, so it was rare to experience thermals and heavy turbulence, but it wasn’t out of the question. The Twin Otter wasn’t a gigantic commercial airliner, so even smaller winds could buffet the fuselage, but generally if they encountered massive turbulence, they could just jump and leave it to the pilot to head home on their own.
He closed his eyes and focused on his breathing, taking in the moment while the others chatted amongst themselves. His spotlight was done for now. Once they covered the pre-jump routine and lessons, making sure everyone listened properly and was ready, allowing them this time to chat nervously en route to the sky was fine by him. More than half of today’s jumpers were experienced and just out for a Monday morning thrill with their Go Pro cameras attached to their helmets. And then there were a couple like his wife, on their first jump with their experienced partners.
Ten minutes later he was out of his seat and standing in front of everyone again.
“To recap, there will be about one minute of free fall, then for those jumping tandem, the instructor will open the chute, and you’ll ride the wind for another five to seven minutes. Enjoy your jump and we’ll see you all on the ground in about ten minutes.” He moved to the side. “Now, just before I open this door, I want all jumpers to file by me slowly for a final check of their equipment.” He glanced at Julie, and added, “Wait until the end. I’ll check yours and hook up to you.”
She nodded at him, looking more nervous than she should. It almost made him second guess what they were doing up here.
William might be overdoing it, but since this was his new investment, his way of relieving the stress of being a stockbroker for too many years, he couldn’t allow anything to go wrong. He’d been a stockbroker for almost ten years now, and was about to make the move into investment banking. As much as they argued, Julie was a good woman and he was happy they were moving forward as a couple into this new phase in their lives. Owning a skydiving company in the north of Toronto was a fun exercise in financing and delegation, and it had proven to be quite the investment. The Twin Otter alone sold for seven million, but the loans were written up and everything was arranged by several friends in the business. Over time, the business itself would be profitable, but not enough to pay off the loans. This was the sort of business he built up, had fun doing it, carried the loans, and then sold it at an exorbitant markup—plane and all—for a large profit when he was not interested in jumping any longer.
Jumper after jumper was checked and ready to go. He opened the side door and watched as one after another was taken by the wind at slightly above ten thousand feet.
When they were down to the last six people, three tandem jumps, Julie had gone from white to green. William feared his wife would ask to remain in the plane until it landed.
He gestured for her to stand so he could prepare her for the jump as one tandem group dropped out the side.
The second tandem followed until Julie and William were the last two in the back, the single pilot up front.
“I can’t do it,” Julie shouted over the sound of the wind rushing through the open door.
“Julie, unfortunately now is not a good time to bail, so to speak.”
“What?”
“We have to jump. The pilot has arranged to fly us over open fields for t
his jump. In several minutes our pilot will head back to the airport. We have to go now.”
“I don’t want to. You go.”
He stared at her for a long moment, longer than he wanted. They should’ve already jumped. And he knew once they did and they were on the ground she would be so happy she did it. He also knew that if she didn’t jump, this would be a problem topic for years to come because she would feel like a failure, like she couldn’t pull through in the final moment.
This was his life now. How could they move forward if she didn’t do the one jump she promised him she would do?
“Julie, baby, you promised. We do one jump, then that’s it. You’re totally safe. I got you.”
She seemed near tears now, her head shaking back and forth. She pointed at the large open door. “I can’t step out there. No way.”
Someone moved in his peripheral. William frowned and turned to the right. A woman was standing there—the pilot. But it wasn’t his usual pilot, Mike.
“Where’s Mike?” he asked.
The woman shrugged. “They called me in last minute. Something about a no show.”
“Whose flying the plane?”
“Autopilot. I came back to make sure everyone was gone.”
“We may be staying for the ride back to the airport.”
The woman shrugged again. “Suit yourself.” She turned to Julie. “Ma’am, can you take off your gear and close that door. And William, I need to speak with you.”
Julie unclipped her straps, a relieved expression on her face, then moved toward the open door tentatively.
William wasn’t sure she saw how he opened it, and was about to show her when the pilot pushed him back and went to do it for her.
William bumped his legs against a seat edge and dropped into it. When he glanced over at the door, the pilot had raised her hands and leaned back, looking as if she wanted to push Julie out the open door.
His wife wasn’t looking as she was mesmerized by the large gap that led to the outside.
William shouted, “No!” as he pushed up off the chair, the chute on his back slowing him down.
The pilot’s hands hit Julie directly between her shoulders. She was wearing nothing but her jacket and pants—no gear, no parachute.