The Warning

by Michelle E Lowe

  Novak blurted out, “It was Mrs. Sho! She paid for the operation.”

  “Put Detective Rivera back on the phone,” he demanded. When Rivera came back on, he said, “Did you hear him?”

  “Sure did. What are you going to do?”

  He sighed deeply into the receiver. “What else can I do?”

  Sutherland drove Knox away from the hospital after his brief conversation with Rivera. It was the longest ride of his life. A bitter sickness made his stomach hurt, but the truth usually had a funny way of bringing pain.

  He reached the mayor’s apartment building and rode up in the elevator, making another phone call on the short trip.

  “Hey, Lucas,” Kay greeted when she opened the door for him. “She’s in her bedroom. She hasn’t come out since they took Hiroshi away.”

  “I have to see her,” he said somberly. “It’s important.”

  “So you said over the phone.”

  He went up the stairs alone. The painkillers he took at the hospital gave him the sensation that he was moving in slow motion, but he kept his wits about him by focusing on his agenda. He knocked on the door and called to Mrs. Sho. When no response came, he tried the knob. It turned in his hand, and he took out his gun as he stepped inside.

  Darkness owned the room except for a faded blue light coming through the large windows. Someone was lying on the bed. “Mrs. Sho?”

  “Lucas?” she said weakly. “I thought you’d come. I just didn’t expect it would be so soon.”

  He moved closer to the side of the bed. He wanted to switch on the lamp, but he held his gun in his only working hand. “Mrs. Sho, I’m here to arrest you for the murder of your stepdaughter, Jade Sho.”

  Mrs. Sho stayed motionless. Her breathing sounded shallow and raspy. “I had hoped to have a little more time before someone came for me.”

  “Did you hear me, Mrs. Sho?”

  “I know, Lucas. I know. But I don’t think you’ll be taking me away in handcuffs.”

  He aimed his gun at her. “Get up, Mrs. Sho. I’ll only tell you once.”

  She said nothing for a moment. “I can’t, Lucas. I’ve taken an entire bottle of Zanax and methadone.”

  His heart jumped into his throat.

  He holstered his gun to switch on the bedside lamp. Claudia Sho squinted and turned away. Her russet skin had paled. Two empty pill bottles were lying beside her. “Oh, God.” He rushed back to the top of the staircase. “Kay!”

  She appeared at the steps below. “Yeah?”

  “Call 9-1-1. Get an ambulance over here now!”

  “Why? What’s happening?”

  “Just do it!”

  Knox bolted back into the room and sat down beside the dying woman. “Mrs. Sho,” he said softly between breaths. “Stay with me. Help’s on the way.”

  She gave him a fragile smile and slowly rocked her head from side to side. “It’s too late to help me. This is what I deserve. I had my own step-daughter killed to protect my plan.”

  “Your plan? But I thought—”

  “That it was all Hiroshi’s idea? No, it was mine. I could never get into office. I’m too high-strung for the job. But I wanted the power more than anything. That’s why I married Hiroshi.” She rotated her head away from him. “But never could he get into the White House. I’ve had this elaborate plan for awhile, but I needed someone easily persuaded to help me put it into action. Once I got Hiroshi to go along with it, it all came together.”

  “And when your step-daughter found this out, you had her killed,” he said bitterly. “How could you do that to her?”

  She rolled her head back to him. “I didn’t want to hurt her, but she left me no choice. She said nothing about the video she took, but instead told me to my face that she knew everything and was going to get the proof to stop it. I’d worked so hard for this; I had no choice.”

  Did Jade have a death wish? Why would she do something so stupid as to confront her step-mother like that?

  “And your son,” he asked. “You bribed some kid to claim he had sex with him?”

  “Yes,” she admitted. “Aaron kept asking questions. I couldn’t bear to kill my own son, so I distracted him. Jade was a strong-minded young woman. No mere distraction was going to divert her.”

  “So you met Novak during one of your cosmetic surgeries and persuaded your husband’s set designer to go through with the procedure.”

  “I didn’t persuade him. Keiko did. She told Douglas that it was my husband’s idea.”

  Of course. That’s how you kept yourself so well hidden.

  “I knew my personal surgeon would never have agreed to do the job. He’s already well established. But a young man right out of med school is easily lured by the promise of fast cash. Douglas followed the plan like a good little dog.”

  “And everyone else was simply covering their own asses?” he surmised, referring to Osborn and Shaw. “That’s why you told me that it was you who’d asked Jade to come home, to make yourself appear to be the caring wife.”

  She said nothing. Sirens sounded in the distance.

  “You don’t deserve to get out of this so easily. After what you’ve done, you should be crucified.”

  Again, there was no response from her, but this time it wasn’t because she refused to speak; she’d quietly slipped away. Her lifeless, unblinking eyes stared up at the ceiling. Knox checked her pulse, then noticed an envelope by the lamp and opened it with his good hand.

  He read through the one-page confession, then lowered the paper to glare at the dead woman. “No longer the empress on the throne.”

  Chapter 31

  Jean stood in the kitchen, preparing breakfast, when a pounding began at her door. She jumped and dropped the spatula. The muffled voice of a man called for her. “Doctor Crowe? Open the door, please.”

  A lightning bolt of fear struck her very core. The police had come to take her brother away again.

  She headed for the guest room to warn Nikolai but found him standing near the couch. “Shit.” She said with a start. “We need to get you out of here.”

  He only shook his head. “No, I’m not going anywhere but out the front door.”

  “No,” she said sorrowfully. “You can’t just give up.”

  He smiled. “You were right before. It’s over. No need to run anymore.”

  Hearing her own words echoed back to her, she came to terms with them. If he continued running, he would lose the opportunity to stand up to the ones who’d framed him. She became tearful and he walked over to embrace her.

  “It’s going to be all right.”

  “Jean Crowe,” came the voice again from behind the door. “We know you’re in there. Open the door, please.”

  She wiped her tears away as she went through the entrance hallway that seemed to have stretched into a mile. She unlocked the latch and took a deep breath before turning the knob. Behind the door stood two men and a woman dressed in black suits. The woman and one of the men stood back to back in the hallway, staring down the corridor while the second man faced Jean. “Doctor Crowe?”

  “Yes.”

  “We understand that you’re the sister of Nikolai Crowe.”

  She leaned against the doorway with her arms crossed. “It depends on who wants to know.”

  “Is he here?” the man asked flatly.

  She said nothing.

  “Let them in, Jean,” Nikolai said, appearing in the foyer.

  The man brought his arm up and spoke into the cuff of his shirtsleeve. “He’s here.” He touched his earpiece and listened. “Copy that.” He turned to his people and waved them forward. “Excuse us, ma’am,” he said, entering through the doorway.

  Powerless to stop them, she stepped aside. They weren’t the police, but they were obviously people of authority.

  FBI?

  She followed them into the living room.

  Nikolai stood still, his hands down at his sides where they could be seen. The three suits surrounded him.


  “Raise your arms, Mr. Crowe,” demanded the man who’d spoken to Jean.

  Without argument, he lifted his arms. The man moved a metal detector over his body.

  “He’s clean,” the man reported into the cuff of his shirtsleeve. He stepped aside and stood with his hands clasped in front of him like the others.

  “Who are you people?” Nikolai asked.

  No one gave an answer. He looked at Jean; she shrugged and turned to the doorway when she heard footsteps coming from the corridor. She started to say something, but the sight of her guests stole her voice.

  “President Reed?” Nikolai said when the visitor entered the living room.

  “Hello, Mr. Crowe,” the President said.

  President Donald Reed and the First Lady, Clare, walked side by side toward Nikolai. Other Secret Service Agents followed and broke off to stand guard in the living room.

  Jean was overcome with shock and confusion. She had so many questions, starting with why the President of the United States was standing in her living room.

  “Mr. President,” Nikolai said, “please don’t take this the wrong way, but why are you here?”

  “To see you,” Reed answered. “I wanted to meet the young man who saved this country from devastation. You’re a hero, son.” He extended his hand.

  Nikolai hesitated a moment before shaking it. “Thank you, sir, but I’m not the hero here; Jade is. She was the one who risked her life for the truth, and died for it.”

  Reed nodded. “I’ve been fully informed about the situation. I know how you were framed for Miss Sho’s murder and that it was Claudia Sho who arranged it.”

  Nikolai’s eyes grew wide. “The mayor’s wife? She had Jade killed?”

  “I’m afraid so.”

  Jean’s jaw dropped. Hearing that Mrs. Sho had had a hand in her step-daughter’s murder was truly disturbing. Even though they weren’t blood relatives, a mother’s love was supposed to outweigh everything.

  “I understand you and Miss Sho were an item,” the First Lady said.

  “Yes, ma’am,” Nikolai said mournfully. “We were.”

  “Don’t worry, Mr. Crowe,” Reed said. “I may not be able to bring her back, but I’ll make damn sure she isn’t forgotten. I’ll let the entire world know what she’s done. Her sacrifice won’t go unnoticed, I promise.”

  A small smile crossed Nikolai’s face. “Thank you, sir.”

  President Reed kept his word. Not only was Nikolai cleared, but he was granted the four million dollars that had been offered for his capture. The once-clandestine plan by Hiroshi and Claudia Sho was documented and released for the public to read in full. Three witnesses stepped forward to speak on Nikolai’s behalf. Douglas Crawford, Dr. Novak, and Jade’s landlord, Loy, confessed to the parts they’d played. Others had no choice but to admit their participation in light of the evidence stacked against them. Chief of Police Howard Osborn disclosed that he’d been in charge of setting up Nikolai Crowe for murder. Dr. Linden freely admitted his part, cleansing his soul and clearing his conscience of the evil he’d been less than a month away from unleashing.

  Sho was found guilty of conspiracy to commit treason but was cleared of his daughter’s murder through the handwritten confession his wife had left. He received four consecutive life sentences without parole.

  As for Jade, she was labeled a martyr for the life she gave for her country. A memorial was placed in Central Park near the Greywacke Arch Bridge, a small fountain that Nikolai helped design. Standing in the middle was a six-foot bronze statue of Artemis, the Greek goddess of Strength. Nikolai had chosen the statue because it was how he viewed Jade, a strong, fearless woman who’d passed her courage on to others. Including him.

  Chapter 32

  The branches on the trees were nearly bare as November rolled on. The brown leaves, no longer October red and yellow, floated in the crisp autumn air, landing on the moist ground and in the pond, where they sailed over the water’s surface.

  Nikolai stood in the middle of the Gapstow Bridge, holding an urn close to his chest with his eyes to the water. It was quiet, and he could almost forget he stood in the middle of one of the world’s largest cites if it weren’t for the skyscrapers and apartment buildings peering over the trees. He’d stood by the ledge of the bridge for nearly an hour as the sun gradually rose over the city. The morning was so young, the park lights still glowed and fog rose from the water as opaque as steam.

  It promised to be a beautiful day; however, meteorologists had predicted storm clouds from the north.

  He’d arrived early to do what he’d come for without reporters inquiring about the night he’d spent as the most wanted man in the country. For the moment, he was alone. Only the ducks swam quietly beneath the bridge.

  “Goodbye, Jade,” he said softly. “I love you.”

  After taking the lid off the simple bronze urn, he hurled the ashes out. They flew into the air as a cloud before gracefully falling into the water. The speckles drifted beneath the bridge as he closed the urn.

  His insides felt like thick sludge and his body was as heavy as lead.

  He’d been holding onto the ashes for the last couple of weeks, wondering if he’d ever be able to let them go. In her will, Jade had stated that she’d wanted to be cremated and thrown into open water, but she’d never specified when or where her ashes were to be spread. He hadn’t wanted to give them up. It meant she’d be truly and completely gone from his life. The decision had come only the night before, when Jean had talked him into it.

  It’ll be your first step towards healing, she’d said.

  But it hurts too much to give her up, he’d argued.

  Sometimes the medicine you take to recover is bitter.

  He’d taken what she’d said to heart. He didn’t want to stop grieving for Jade, but if he didn’t do something soon, his grief would consume him. He didn’t want that, either. He was still young, with a life ahead of him. The pain of her loss would always be with him, and no other woman would ever take her place, but he wanted to live the rest of his life as a living person, not the walking dead.

  After the water carried the ashes out of sight, he left the park and went to his car. When he got in he noticed something in the passenger seat that hadn’t been there before; a toy model of an old 1800 steam train.

  “What the hell?”

  He studied it a moment before looking into the back seat to make sure no one was hiding behind him.

  Who the hell had broken into his car while he was in the park? They hadn’t done any damage when they’d broken in, nor had they tripped the alarm.

  Warily, he picked up the train. A folded piece of paper had been shoved into the engineer’s cab. It was a tight squeeze, but he slipped his fingers inside the tiny window and took it out. The sheet had been creased over three times to fit inside the cab.

  He unfolded it to discover an old-style train ticket from the train museum in New Hampshire. On the front was an illustration of a cartoon train speeding over the tracks with puffs of white smoke coming from the chimney. Above it read: THE RAILROAD YARD MUSEUM, along with the address and phone number at the bottom.

  He flipped the ticket over. Scribbled on the back were instructions on where he should go once he got there.

  “Jesus, am I supposed to go to this place?”

  The handwriting wasn’t familiar; however, the ticket sparked curiosity.

  What do I have to lose?

  He started the car and pulled away from the curb.

  * * * * *

  By the time he reached the museum, the overcast sky had already faded into dark gray. A cold autumn drizzle sprinkled down, and a biting breeze delivered a sample of the winter months to come.

  There was no one at the museum to tell him the place was closed for the season. No guard or machine, just an empty place filled with railroad history. The gate leading inside wasn’t locked because someone had broken it.

  The Railroad Yard Museum displayed the last of the s
team locomotives of the nineteenth and early twentieth century. It was divided into two sections, the 1800 and 1900 eras. He’d visited it on a field trip in the fifth grade.

  He rolled the car over the gravel parking lot and stopped in front of a reconstructed wooden train station. The car door locked when he shut it, and he walked cautiously into the building, carrying the toy train.

  He was convinced the person who wanted to meet him was Ebenezer, but then he thought it might be some damn reporter trying to trick him into an interview. Over the last few weeks, he’d refused to speak to any of them about his ordeal. He wasn’t ready to open up and talk about what he’d gone through during that night on the run. Most of all, he wasn’t ready to discuss the private life he’d shared with Jade. Not even with anchor Sakura Yoko.

  That prospect urged him to get back into his car and drive away. But still he kept walking through the musty train station, toward a door straight ahead.

  As instructed on the back of the ticket, he entered one of the museum’s nineteenth century halt stations where a wax figure ticket seller stood behind a window. The mannequin at the booth sported a handlebar mustache and wore a white long-sleeve shirt, black vest, and round spectacles. A white bearded mannequin sat on a wooden bench, reading a newspaper. He was dressed in a brown tailcoat, with a top hat and a cigar in his mouth. Standing in front of a window was a mother in a blue crossover dress and a cobalt Spencer jacket. She showed her toddler son the train outside. These three were guarded by a dusty velvet rope with a sign reading PLEASE DO NOT TOUCH.

  The man in the ticket booth seemed to be the only one who watched Nikolai stroll across the dim room. His unblinking eyes appeared to follow him. Nikolai did his best not to be spooked, but a shudder crawled up his back anyway. He reached the door leading to the platform outside and went through it. A gust of wind blew over him, sending a chill through his body.