The Accident

by James Kipling

  “But--” Mandy began to object.

  Jacob checked his watch. “I have one minute and twenty-four seconds,” he said. “Look, I'm one of the good guys. If you want to stay alive, then obey orders. Please.” And with those words, Jacob stepped out into the rain, jumped into his jeep, and drove away, just as the CIA monitoring equipment came back online. Wendy Cratterson was informed of the attack, but her mind was too focused on her secret mission. Instead of conducting an investigation, as ordered, she ignored the command, which allowed Jacob to escape into the night without a single enemy soldier knowing he had visited Jessica Mayes.

  ((((((((((*))))))))))

  Sheriff Thad Butler waited until a long train passed before speaking. “Are you sure?” he asked, trying to ignore a hard-falling rain that was now mixed with ice, feeling every bit of his sixty-four years. “Agent Cratterson, this man-”

  “Walter Hicks went missing from the town of Derryfield, Pennsylvania a few days ago,” Wendy spoke in a calm, stern tone, while holding a black umbrella over her head. Her devious mind, suffering from lack of sleep, was quickly becoming annoyed at the least little poke or prod. “Walter Hicks left a note in his home stating that he went to find Mrs. Mayes.”

  “I see.” Sheriff Butler folded his arms over a brown rain jacket, covering a nice suit rather than a uniform. A young deputy that appeared to be a real brown nose stood next to Sheriff Butler, holding an umbrella over the man's head. “And you believe this Jessica Mayes woman killed this man, is that it?”

  “My people have been watching Mrs. Mayes,” Wendy informed the Sheriff, looking around the deserted work yard that was sitting behind a closed down carpet house. Cold, unfriendly railroad tracks ran parallel to the work yard, hidden by a thick patch of trees. Andy's dead body, which had been turned into the body of one Walter Hicks, had been found in the patch of trees. “When we heard the call come through your dispatch, I had a bad feeling.”

  Sheriff Butler didn't appreciate the CIA monitoring his 9-1-1 Call Center. He was a professional man who had joined the Navy at the age of seventeen, did his twenty years, and then worked twenty more years in the carpet industry, before running for Sheriff. The last Sheriff, a man who had held office for nearly ten years, had finally been investigated by the FBI, and had been arrested for drug and gun trafficking, using illegal aliens he had come to know while working HR for the carpet industry, before quitting, to do his criminal work. The office of Sheriff became available, and the citizens of Whitfield County, disgusted that they had been supporting a criminal, were hungry for an honest man. Sheriff Butler was the perfect man to fill the hungry appetite of countless upset citizens. He was honest, strict and fair; committed to justice and law. The idea of having an agency like the CIA poking their noses into his county didn't sit well with Sheriff Butler. “Why wasn't I informed?” he asked, struggling to remain calm.

  “Sheriff Butler,” Wendy nearly snapped, “certain operational procedures, that are being performed under intense scrutiny, are not permitted to be openly discussed with public officials that have not undergone a thorough background check and passed a clearance test. It is not for you to ask why, but to simply assist the CIA. Is that clear?”

  Sheriff Butler narrowed his eyes and snatched the umbrella his young deputy was holding. “Do something useful, Deputy Cessna,” he barked. The young deputy stumbled back a few feet, with a confused look on his face, and quickly walked off toward a run-down brick building covered with broken windows. “A man is dead and you're telling me you know who killed him?”

  Wendy shook her head. “I'm assuming Mrs. Mayes killed Mr. Hicks,” she explained, forcing her tired mind to step away from a temping kitchen knife. “My people will perform the forensics,” she continued. “This is a federal matter, now, Sheriff Butler. However, while forensics are being run, I do need you to take Mrs. Mayes into custody until further notice.”

  “On what evidence?”

  Wendy carefully pulled a plastic bag from the inside pocket of her leather jacket. “This is a journal entry we found in the home of Mr. Hicks,” she explained. “In this letter, Mr. Hicks stated that Mrs. Mayes confessed her love for him.” Wendy studied Sheriff Butler's eyes with skilled observation. “It's not abnormal for a patient to form an emotional bond with their psychiatrist. However, Mr. Hicks goes on to explain that Mrs. Mayes was suffering from a dangerous form of psychosis, accompanied by severe anger issues. Mrs. Mayes was forced to stop teaching because she was becoming violent with her students. She began to believe that her students were part of an underground movement designed to destroy the American Constitution. The woman believed, and certainly still believes, that there is a shadow government working to incorporate a new society controlled by certain global bodies within the United Nations. In other words, she's a deranged conspiracy theorist.”

  Sheriff Butler, even though he never publicly voiced his personal thoughts, also believed that certain bodies within the government—bodies controlled by entities within the UN—were tasked to destroy America. “I see,” he said.

  Wendy carefully put the fake letter back into her pocket. “Mr. Hicks confessed that he allowed his emotions to become personal, although he never acted on his emotions. He confessed that Mrs. Mayes frightened him, and had even threatened murdered if Mr. Hicks dared to speak to her husband. However, Mr. Hicks continued to fall deeper in love with Mrs. Mayes, at least according to the journal we located in his home.” Wendy carefully and deliberately kept her story simple, while making her voice sound confident in her approach. “Mr. Hicks,” Wendy patted her jacket pocket, “stated that he was leaving Derryfield to locate Mrs. Mayes, and force the woman to marry him.”

  “Now that Mr. Mayes is dead, right?” Sheriff Butler asked in a disgusted voice.

  Wendy nodded her head. “The husband of Jessica Mayes is under intense investigation, and I'm not privileged to discuss any matter concerning him. All I'm permitted to say is that Mrs. Mayes is of great importance to the CIA right now. I’m afraid that Mrs. Mayes may have come across classified information that she passed onto Mr. Hicks; information Mr. Hicks was using against Mrs. Mayes--”

  “And force the woman to marry her. Yeah, I get it, Agent Cratterson.” Sheriff Butler glanced around the deserted work yard. “Seems like you have all the answers.”

  “Theories,” Wendy stated, pretending to show a moment of humility. “Sheriff Butler, we are all on the same side of justice. You know, as well as I do, that facts are rare and theories are numerous. I'm afraid it will always be that way.” Wendy checked her watch. It was a little past nine. “Mrs. Mayes and her sister are intending to leave town today. I prefer you arrest Mrs. Mayes before that happens.”

  Sheriff Butler hesitated, and then nodded his head. “I'll take Mrs. Mayes into custody and temporarily hold her” he confirmed. “But there is a lot of legal tape to get through, Agent Cratterson. You're going to need to talk to Tyler Pratts, the local DA. Once the DA gives me an official nod, I'll make a full arrest. But until then, a person is innocent until proven guilty, and I'm not going to treat Mrs. Mayes like a criminal.”

  Wendy narrowed her eyes. “Mr. Pratts will have all the evidence he needs before noon,” she spoke in a cold, hard, voice. “The CIA doesn't make errors, Sheriff Butler. We are an extremely skilled agency. Mrs. Mayes, as the old saying goes, is a small fish in a big pond.”

  Something in Wendy's cold eyes sent a shiver down Sheriff Butler's spine. The woman appeared soulless. Was that it? Yes...soulless. “I'll take Mrs. Mayes into custody and hold her. However, the woman will be allowed to contact any legal defense she deems fit. In that case, I may be forced to release her. Even if I'm not, I'm only holding the woman until the end of closing today, as a favor to the CIA, and nothing more. If the DA doesn't give me a nod to make an official arrest, Mrs. Mayes is walking free.”

  Wendy resisted the urge to pull out her Glock 19 and shoot Sheriff Butler on the spot. “The CIA appreciates your cooperation,�
� she spoke in a hard tone. “Now, please clear your men. My team will be arriving within the next half hour.”

  Sheriff Butler looked deep into Wendy's soulless eyes. The CIA was a slippery, deadly snake that he didn't want to tangle with. Sheriff Butler had a wife of forty years, three sons, a daughter and four grandchildren. He knew that if a man dared kick dirt at the CIA, well, that man might as well have gone and signed his own death certificate. “I'll do what I can, Agent Cratterson,” he said and made a loud whistle. “Everyone clear out. The CIA is taking over the scene.”

  Wendy nodded her head. “Thank you,” she told Sheriff Butler. Sheriff Butler nodded in return, walked to a gray 2016 Dodge Ram truck with the word 'Sheriff' painted on the driver and passenger side doors, jumped into the cab, and carefully drove off into the icy rain. Wendy waited until the scene was clear, and then called Roger Alden. “Bad news, Sir.”

  Roger Alden, sitting at a breakfast table in a long, rectangular dining room full of rare paintings, put down a silver fork. “We received an attack last night. Are we clear in your area?” he demanded.

  Wendy remembered receiving a report about the attack. The woman was now stepping in a pit of alligators, and had to proceed with extreme caution. “Yes sir, Mrs. Mayes is still in the green. However, we do have a problem.”

  Roger Alden snatched up a white coffee cup. “Speak.”

  Wendy glanced down at Andy's body. “Sir, we have a dead body,” she spoke, and then, on legs that could have walked across a hot fire without touching the flames, she dove into her created scheme. “I have a team in route,” she finished.

  Roger Alden slowly put down the coffee cup in his hand. “If Jessica Mayes killed this man,” he said in a low, dangerous voice, “that proves to me that Jack Mayes passed information off to her. Information the woman is trying to protect. No one commits murder without reason.”

  “Yes, sir,” Wendy stated, and then grinned. Roger Alden was swallowing the hook. “That is why this agent believes it would be prudent to have Jessica Mayes arrested for murder, and placed into a secured federal prison system where she can be monitored without harm.”

  Roger Alden placed his cold, almost reptilian-like, hands together. “Yes, you may have a point, Agent Cratterson,” he said, as his mind began searching through various options. Wendy Cratterson was a clever woman, but her intelligence was child-like compared to Roger Alden. “I want Mrs. Mayes arrested for the murder of Walter Hicks, Agent Cratterson. Then I want you to return to Washington. I'll assign a different agent to deal with Mrs. Mayes.”

  Wendy froze. Something in Roger's voice sent fear into her heart. “Sir, I was hoping to continue--”

  “Have Mrs. Mayes arrested and return to Washington!” Roger Alden yelled at Wendy. “Is that clear?”

  “Yes, Sir,” Wendy replied, struggling to sound calm and professional. “I will wrap up my end here, Sir, and be in Washington by 2200 hours tonight.”

  “Very good.” Roger Alden slapped the cell phone sitting on the table before him. “You did well, Agent Cratterson. I wasn't entirely sure what game you were playing with me, but now that you have revealed your cards, it's clear that I have room to take advantage of your error.” Roger picked up his cup of coffee. “Tonight, you will be put to death,” he finished, and then began thinking about Jessica Mayes. “Yes, perhaps it is best we lock you behind bars, Mrs. Mayes, for safe keeping...or at least until you confess the secrets of your to me.” Roger put down his coffee and made a call. “This is Alden. I want a full account of Agent Cratterson's illegal system activities, that were conducted last night, on my desk within the hour.”

  As Roger ordered reports on Wendy Cratterson, the woman began to pace around the deserted work yard on nervous legs. Suddenly, her ingenious plan seemed to be falling apart before her eyes. “He knows. But how?” she asked in a shaky voice. “How does Alden know? I used extreme caution. No red flags were thrown up.” Wendy looked up into the icy gray sky with scared eyes. “If I go back to Washington, Roger Alden will have me killed.” A flash of sudden anger replaced Wendy's fear. “This is your fault, Mrs. Mayes.” Wendy glanced at the black SUV she was driving. “I'm going to have to go rogue, but not before ending your miserable life, Mrs. Mayes. Before I leave Georgia, you will die. In the meantime, I have no other choice but to do as Roger Alden has ordered, in order to buy more time.” Wendy jogged over to the SUV, hurrying through cold puddles. She jumped into the driver's seat and made a call. “Yes, this is Cratterson. What is the ETA on forensics?”

  “Forensics will be arriving in your zone in ten minutes,” a young voice reported back.

  “Log my call,” Wendy ordered, ending the call, and then sat silent for a minute. “What choice do I have?” she asked in a miserable voice. With a shaky hand she put through a second call; a call to a man in London. “This is Cratterson. R.O.G.U.E,” she spelled out.

  Lionel Brown wasn't surprised to hear Wendy's voice. The woman was far too daring and rebellious to ever maintain a steady role with the CIA, without eventually being shot down. He carefully put down a piece of toast covered with grape jelly, walked out onto a stone balcony overlooking a foggy front street littered with black cabs, and allowed his mind time to think. After a careful minute of deep thought, he gave her a phone number. “Don't delay.”

  Wendy memorized the phone number, ended the call, and pulled out a cigarette from her jacket pocket. “After I kill you, Mrs. Mayes, somehow I'll achieve my plans. In the meantime, I still want Senator Ammons to uphold her part of the deal.” she stated, lit the cigarette with a match, and then called the local paper and reported the murder of one Andy Longwell, AKA Walter Hicks.

  Jessica had no idea Wendy was in hot water, and that the woman was planning her death. She was busy helping Mandy pack. Mandy was busy worrying about Jacob Green. Could she really trust the strange man who had appeared on her door step the night before? Mandy wasn't certain. All she knew was that it was time to get out of dodge, before the bullets began flying. “Hurry and pack my green sweater,” she ordered Jessica in a nervous voice. “I'm going to go work on a toiletry bag.”

  “Hurry,” Jessica pleaded and checked the time. “We have less than two hours before we have to be at the Chick-Fil-A”

  Mandy nodded her head and wheeled herself into the bathroom. So much for working out a clean two week notice with her employer.

  Chapter 6

  Jessica Under Attack

  Jessica stared at Sheriff Butler in shock. “Walter Hicks?” she asked in a shaky voice. “I never even heard of that name before.”

  “Ma’am, I've seen the dead body myself,” Sheriff Butler informed Jessica, staring into the woman's beautiful, upset face, determined to remain neutral. The CIA was involved with the case. Sheriff Butler wasn't interested in having the CIA blacklist his name in his county. “I'm not officially placing you under arrest, Mrs. Mayes,” Sheriff Butler continued, looking clearly at Mandy, and then looking back at Jessica. “I've been asked by the CIA--”

  “The CIA?” Jessica gasped, as her legs stumbled backwards a few feet.

  “Ma’am, the CIA has asked me to hold you until they speak to the local DA,” Sheriff Butler explained. “I've agreed to hold you until this evening. If no official charge is brought against you by then, you'll be free to leave.”

  “Official charge?” Mandy asked, sitting in her worn-down wheelchair. “Sheriff Butler, what does that mean?”

  Sheriff Butler watched Jessica ease back to a warm couch and sit down, before her trembling legs collapsed under her. “The Agent I spoke with, an Agent Wendy Cratterson--” Jessica quickly memorized the name Sheriff Butler tossed into the tense air, “seems to believe that your sister killed this Mr. Hicks. She claims Mr. Hicks was your sister's psychiatrist.”

  “That's a lie,” Jessica gasped. “I never even heard of the man.”

  “Agent Cratterson claims you were being treated for psychosis and anger issues,” Sheriff Butler pressed for
ward. “She also claimed that she found a private journal written by Mr. Hicks, in which he claims a platonic romance.”

  Jessica felt her cheeks turn red with rage. “I loved...love my husband, Sheriff,” she insisted, as hot tears began to fall from her eyes. “Jack Mayes was my heart. I would have never hurt my husband...” Jessica wiped at her tears. “I...the Bible teaches a wife to be submissive, humble and faithful, and I was. My husband, in return, put me on a pedestal and treated me like a princess. The Bible commands husbands to love their wives, and Jack loved me in a deep, special way. He treated me as if I were his entire world.” Jessica wiped at more tears. “I...”

  Mandy realized that Jessica was nearing the edge of a nervous breakdown, and quickly stepped in. “Can my sister remain at my home?” she asked. “If no official charge of murder has been brought against her then--”

  Sheriff Butler held up a quick hand. “Ms. Andrews, it would be wise if Mrs. Mayes rode to the jail with me. I'll let her rest in my office, where she will be allowed to use her cell phone to contact any lawyer she deems necessary. However,” he added in a troubled voice, staring into Jessica's face, “the more I stand here and look at your sister trying to remain neutral, the more it seems clear to me that she couldn't step on an ant, let alone kill a man.” Sheriff Butler shoved his hands into the pockets of his rain jacket. “The CIA always leaves a bad stench in my nose,” he said in a troubled voice, walking over to the couch, and sitting down beside Jessica. “You didn't kill Walter Hicks, did you?”

  “No,” Jessica promised, desperately wiping at her tears. “I was with my sister all night and all morning. I mean...check our vehicles or...my shoes for mud...or--”

  “Her hands for gun powder,” Mandy added, and then winced. “I saw that on a law show once.”

  Sheriff Butler looked down at his own hands. “Mrs. Mayes, may I ask you a question?”