James Beamer Box Set

by Paul Seiple

  “When this is over, I think you will be surprised to find out the truth about Wallace.”

  The truth was in part a lie. A caged Wallace may sing. Tell the world James Beamer is his son and what laws the great Reid Hoffman broke to keep it hid. Mack didn’t worry about that scenario. The probability of Wallace walking out of this was low. Wallace was a man making his last stand.

  “All right, let’s stay together. Keep your lights off if possible. There is still a sniper on the loose. Let’s not give him an easy target,” Mack said. “The cabin was near a stream. Listen for water.”

  The image of a tall glass of ice water caused Barbara to smack her lips. Dryness made them stick together like glue. She woke from light sleep. Her situation was worse. The drumming in her head felt like speed metal. Normally, Barbara wouldn’t have a clue what that felt like, she was more into Dizzy Gillespie than dizzying metal, but the Ricky Kasso case introduced her to heavy metal music.

  “More Slayer than Testament.” She laughed, mocking the headache. Laughter jarred her cheeks creating a throbbing behind her eyes. “Now, that’s more like Testament.” Barbara amazed herself at the ability to remember heavy metal band names. She shifted her butt. Her joints cried out from the cold temperature. Barbara could deal with it. It was better than itching.

  A sound of rustling leaves startled her. She wanted to blame it on wind, but it was an unusually still evening. Rustling grew louder…closer. Barbara tensed. Her weak muscles worked overtime to contract.

  Two dots with glowing gold tint flashed between the weeds. Barbara pressed her back into the tree. Bark dug into her bare shoulders. “No coyote population,” she said. The shifting of leaves was louder. “That’s what I get for believing a liar.”

  A raccoon popped its head between a patch of knee-high weeds. Barbara felt her body relax. She laughed. The noise sent the raccoon scurrying. Loneliness replaced relief. Someone would find her. Barbara was sure of that. If it wasn’t Reid, it would be James. But it didn’t look like it would be tonight. Twelve hours of being tied up to tree with nothing to do but think. Twelve hours wasn’t long. She could do it. That’s not the part that worried Barbara. If Reid wasn’t the one to find her that could mean a hell of a lot more loneliness than twelve hours. She knew the only way he wouldn’t be the one to find her was if he was dead. He would fight hell to rescue her.

  Barbara leaned her head back against the tree and hummed “Moonlight Serenade.” On their first date, she danced with Reid to the Glenn Miller version on the deck of a little Italian restaurant overlooking the Potomac. She knew he was the one as he held her and stepped on her toes that chilly evening. Reid didn’t try to hide his demons. At first, maybe it was because they were too busy hiding the relationship from the Bureau. But over time, Barbara understood that she was the only one Reid could confide in, and that made her love him more.

  Loneliness was worse than thirst.

  “Water?” Sheridan asked. “Do you hear that?”

  Mack listened. No running water. “I don’t hear it.”

  “We have to use a light, Mack. I can’t see shit,” Webb said.

  A woman’s voice echoed through the bare trees.

  “Is that humming?” Sheridan asked.

  “‘Moonlight Serenade’,” Mack said, flicking on a flashlight. He ran toward an overgrown path to his right.

  “So much for being inconspicuous,” Sheridan said, following.

  Webb switched the light on and firmed his grip on the revolver.

  Rustling leaves stirred Barbara from dozing off. “Listen, Mr. Raccoon, if you’re going to interrupt me again, at least say hello.”

  “Barbara?”

  Barbara shook her head. The male voice had to be a delusion. She didn’t answer.

  “Barbara?”

  It was no delusion. Someone was there for her. “Reid?”

  Mack broke through the knee-high weeds. Webb and Sheridan weren’t far behind.

  “Where’s Reid?” Barbara asked.

  “Are you alone?” Mack asked.

  “Where’s Reid?”

  “He’s looking for you in Arlington. Are you alone?”

  “Wallace is gone. But he said…”

  Before Barbara could finish the sentence, Sheridan hit the ground.

  “Take cover,” Mack said, dropping to his knees.

  Webb took a step back and stumbled. His ankle snapped. He screamed just as a wooden board flew towards his face. The wood connected, creating a thud. The flashlight spun from Webb’s hand, lighting the horror. Spikes protruded from the wooden board.

  “Spike board. He set traps,” Mack said, flattening on the ground. “Did you see any, Barbara?”

  “No, I didn’t even think to…” Guilt robbed Barbara of the words. She should have spotted the traps.

  Mack shined a light towards Barbara. The surrounding area looked to be free of booby traps. He turned the light behind him. Four feet from Mack was a trip wire. While scanning the area for explosives, he caught of glimpse of four knives sticking in a piece of bamboo near the ground.

  “It’s a whip trap,” Mack said. He inched closer to Barbara. “OK, I’m going to get you out of here.” He felt around the chain to a combination lock. “Shit.”

  “What? Another trap?” Barbara asked.

  “No, it’s a lock.”

  “Try 10-5-5.”

  Mack tucked the flashlight under his chin and entered the numbers. The lock clicked. “How did you know?”

  “Wallace killed Reid’s mother in October of 1955.”

  Mack freed Barbara. “OK, I have to detonate that trap. Hold the light on the bamboo.”

  Mack stood up, back to the Oak tree, and tossed the chain at the tripwire. There was a snap. The bamboo whipped straight up. The knives were at the height of an average-sized man’s neck and head.

  “See any more?”

  Barbara held the light on Sheridan who had an arrow embedded in his chest.

  “Barbara, do you see anymore?”

  She jerked the light away from Sheridan. “No. Wallace went that way.” She aimed the flashlight toward a narrow path over her right shoulder.

  Mack helped Barbara to her feet. “That’s the way we’ll go. He wouldn’t have set any traps in his path.”

  Barbara wrapped her arm around Mack’s waist and steadied herself. “Are you sure Reid is OK?”

  “He’s fine. Let’s get you out of the cold.”

  Thirty-Six

  James Beamer

  Arlington, Virginia

  My phone rang as I placed the four cups of coffee on the counter at 7-11. I motioned for Jill to pay.

  “You’ve got a system worked out, don’t you?” Jill asked. “It’s such a convenience, every time you have to do something you dread your phone rings.”

  I smiled and answered the phone.

  “Beamer.”

  “She’s safe. Really pissed off, and a little dehydrated, but Barbara’s fine,” Mack said.

  “That’s great news. Maybe it will wake Reid up more than this coffee.”

  “How is he?”

  “I haven’t gotten through to him yet. He downed at least one fifth. I’m sure he has a hell of a headache. You didn’t tell Barbara…”

  “No. Nothing good could come from it. She’s getting checked out right now. Once the doctor gives us the clear, we’re headed back.”

  “Maybe I’ll have Reid back to his ornery self by then. I can’t begin to imagine how pissed off he will be when he finds out I didn’t kill Wallace.”

  Jill leaned into my shoulder. “He’s going to string him up by the…”

  I placed my hand over Jill’s mouth. “Forgive her; she still acts like a child.”

  Jill smirked.

  “You found Wallace?” Mack asked.

  I sat against the hood of the Cutlass and took a sip of coffee. “He left a note at Reid’s to meet him at this dive bar. Wallace didn’t expect me to show up.”

  Mack chuckled. “I would have
loved to see his face when you walked in.”

  “To say he was surprised would be an understatement.”

  “Did he put up a fight?”

  “Not a whimper. It was actually pitiful. He wanted me to kill him?”

  “Very anti-climactic. The press will be all over you for hauling in The Morning Star Killer.”

  “Motley and Marlowe took him in. I didn’t want any part of it.”

  “Aren’t you afraid he will talk?”

  “Who’ll believe him? It’s a sociopath’s word against James Beamer,” I said.

  “Who would believe such an insane story anyway?”

  I laughed. “I’m just glad it’s over. Now, maybe we can all live normal lives.”

  “Normal? What’s that?” Mack hesitated. His tone changed. “Look, James, there’s something else.” He paused again. “Webb and Sheridan didn’t… Wallace set traps.”

  “Where are they?”

  “They are dead. The woods were rigged. Wallace never planned for anyone to leave alive, but I don’t think he worked alone. These traps were similar to those used by the VC in Vietnam. I believe Wallace was working with someone with a military background. It had to have been the sniper on Halloween.”

  “I’ll look into it after I leave Reid’s.”

  “I’ve already started running checks. There was no evidence left on Hiatt’s body. Whoever is helping Wallace is good at staying invisible.”

  “We’ll find them. Invisibility only lasts so long.”

  Jill singing the wrong lyrics to pop songs dominated the fifteen minute ride to Reid’s house. Her relief that the nightmare was over couldn’t be contained. I wasn’t quite as sure. Other than being my father, Wallace was no different than the many murderers lurking the streets for their next victim. Part of me felt catching serial killers was my way of coping with sharing a bloodline with The Morning Star Killer. Wallace forced me into this world when he stepped back into my life. For the last fourteen years, Wallace’s actions dictated my every move. When a case had nothing to do with Wallace I still had to be careful not to slip. Not to give away my secrets. The media loved me. I was a real-life superhero rescuing people from the clutches of evil. But let my past come to light and the media would crucify me as fast as they praised me. I could have made things a lot easier for myself by putting a bullet in Wallace’s head. The secret would die with him. As long as Wallace was alive there was a threat the truth would be exposed, but I didn’t regret my decision. I was nothing like my father. I would not give him the satisfaction of thinking differently. As I listened to Jill mix up Richard Marx and Bryan Adams songs I decided I couldn’t be like Reid either. I wanted to sing misquoted lyrics out of key.

  Interrupting Jill, I butchered a Meat Loaf song. “Rock and roll dreams come true.”

  “It’s through,” Jill said. “Come through. Geez.”

  “Really? What were you singing? Richard Adams or Bryan Marx?”

  “Haven’t you ever heard of a remix? Come on, James, catch up with the times.”

  I smiled and chucked out a few words of “The Reflex” by Duran Duran.

  “You’re so corny. It’s no wonder you’re still single.”

  I slowed the Cutlass and rounded the corner to Reid’s street.

  “You think Reid will be able to relax now that this is over?” Jill asked.

  I thought back to Reid passed out on the couch. He would kick himself for getting drunk. Finding out Barbara was alive would ease the pain, but he would beat himself blind over not being the one to save her. There would always be something to make Reid feel like he failed. No one put away more violent criminals than Reid, yet he would always view himself as a failure. Not being the person to stop Wallace would haunt him.

  “I’m not sure Reid will ever relax,” I said.

  “He’s going to be pretty pissed when he finds out you didn’t kill Wallace, huh?”

  “I’m sure I’ll get an earful.”

  “For what it’s worth, I think you did the right thing.” Jill smiled. “You’re a hero, James Beamer.”

  The sarcasm in Jill’s tone didn’t go unnoticed. I pulled into Reid’s driveway.

  “Bring the coffee, but wait in the kitchen. Reid doesn’t like people in his office.”

  “Oh, a secret boys’ club, huh? What do you do down there? Look at porn videos you stole from your da…” Jill stopped herself. I could read her expression…sorry, forgot you had daddy issues. “I’ll just wait in the kitchen.”

  I smiled. “They didn’t have video in my dad’s time. It was magazines.”

  A grin shot across Jill’s face. It was so fast it was impossible to tell if it was sarcastic.

  “Reid, I hope you’re decent down there,” I said.

  As I walked down the stairs, dread replaced relief. With everything coming at me like a speeding bullet, I hadn’t given thought to what would happen when Reid woke up. He thought Barbara was dead. What would happen if he woke up and realized he missed the opportunity to end things with Wallace? There wasn’t any hope for him to hold.

  The door to Reid’s office had a slight gap. Light escaped from beneath. I closed the door earlier when I left and shut off the light.

  “Reid? We found Barbara. She’s safe.”

  The silence sent gooseflesh racing up my arms. I pressed against the door and eased it open. Horror robbed me of my voice and my ability to stand. I fell to my knees. Reid lay on the couch. His revolver was on the floor, just below his dangling hand, next to the shot glass. Reid’s regrets painted the wall. I swallowed, fighting back the urge to vomit. My eyes burned. The need was too strong. I threw up.

  “Are you OK?” Jill asked, hearing me heave.

  I tried to speak, but the knot in my throat wouldn’t allow it. Jill came down the stairs. “Don’t come in here.” My words were barely above a whisper. She didn’t hear them.

  “No. No. No,” Jill said falling to her knees next to me. “Dammit, Reid.”

  We sat in silence, stealing glances of Reid before diverting our eyes away. Jill eyed the shag carpet. I stared at the news clippings on the wall. There was a photocopy of the first letter my brother wrote to me. He started with, “I’m going to tell you a story. A story where the bad guy wins and the good guy dies.” Wallace won. That son-of-a-bitch won, I thought. The nausea passed. I got to my feet and placed a hand on Jill’s shoulder. “Call Captain McCord. I want this handled with no press. The last thing we need is for Barbara to find out before we can tell her.”

  Barbara. This ended the world she knew. It felt like my beating heart was ripped from my chest when I had to say goodbye to Rebecca and Michelle. They weren’t dead, but I had to force myself to believe they were gone. There was always a glimmer of hope that one day I’d see them again. It brought comfort in loss. That hope wouldn’t be there for Barbara. Reid was gone. Dead. There was no coming back. No chance of a reunion unless you believed in Heaven. After all we went through; Heaven was a fairytale Hell, on the other hand, existed. It wasn’t an afterlife for sinners. Hell was on Earth reminding good people every day to fear it.

  “There’s a note,” Jill said.

  On the coffee table, underneath an empty whiskey bottle doubling as a paperweight was a single sheet of paper. The edges frayed as if it had been torn from a notebook without any thought. The handwriting dragged across the paper like slurred words coming from a drunk’s mouth.

  “True love is like ghosts, which everyone talks about and few have seen.” My dearest Barbara, life with me was hard. I know you felt like I spent more time chasing ghosts from my past than loving you. I wasn’t the best at expressing myself. Ending Wallace wasn’t about revenge. I chased the ghost to protect you. The loss of my mother was immeasurable. It was a pain I could never feel again. My need to keep you safe overshadowed my love for you. But I want you to know, I may have failed at catching Wallace, but I was lucky enough to see one ghost in my life. True love. I love you, dear, and I’m sorry I never bought you that island. />
  “I don’t get it. That sounds like he knew Barbara was alive,” Jill said, wiping tears from her cheek.

  I put the paper back on the table. Anger replaced grief. Reid took the cowardly way out. “It’s just the rambling words of a drunk who never said the things he should have said.”

  “It’s not rambling. He quoted Francois de la Rochefoucauld. It’s a love letter to Barbara.”

  “Well, Barbara is not going to see it. I’m not going to let these words haunt her.”

  Jill grabbed my arm. “Barbara needs to know that Reid loved her more than his need to find Wallace. She needs to know why he did it.”

  “Call McCord and tell him no press. I need some fresh air.”

  “Rochefoucauld also said, ‘A true friend is the greatest of all blessings.’ Remember that Reid was a true friend, James.”

  The cracking of old paint as I rocked back and forth in the chair irritated me like nails down a chalk board. I kept rocking. Jill’s words bullied through the noise. True friend. I thought back to the first time I met Reid. My life was in shambles. I had dreams of being a sociopathic killer. I didn’t know myself. I didn’t trust myself. Reid helped me to discover the real me. Along the way, I became more like him. He was gone, but I continued to learn from Reid. His death showed me I had to change or I would end up like him. Grief replaced anger. I missed my true friend.

  “You OK?” Jill asked, taking a seat in the rocker beside me.

  “They spent many evenings out here and just like that, it’s over. Rebecca and I used to do the same thing in our backyard while we watched Michelle swing.”

  “I’m not going to bullshit you and say Reid is in a better place. I do know that he isn’t suffering any longer. He was like a father to me. That’s how I choose to remember him. After my father’s death I spent years resenting, hating, and missing him. All wasted years I can never get back. Years I should have spent remembering the good times. I will not let the same thing happen with Reid. You shouldn’t either.”