by Blink, Bob
Carlson shook her head. “I doubt it will matter,” she said.
Detective Hardy looked at Carlson for an explanation.
“Nothing said today has changed my mind about this killing. Agent Dickens has kept me informed, and I’m convinced your killer is the same man who has done this kind of thing in a number of cities around the country over the past several years. We have a couple of instances where footprints have been recovered. They are always new shoes, and each time a different brand. I’m certain the shoes are discarded after the killing. It would surprise me greatly if the discovery would be of any use to us.”
“That’s why you asked us to check for rental cars,” Detective Johnson said.
“That’s right,” Carlson confirmed. “At one scene a witness saw a car leaving the scene. The witness noticed the rental car sticker, but we were never able to follow the clue up successfully. Do you have any idea how many cars are rented in a major city like Phoenix every day? Every car that was out in that case was tracked down along with the renter’s identities. All but three cards checked out. Two of those were phony, and one was a dead end. The card was valid, but the accounts associated with paying it lead nowhere. Our best people couldn’t work through the offshore accounts that hid the owner. That name and credit card has never reappeared in the system, but we have looked for it. There is a watch against it reappearing. We think the person using it was aware he might have been seen and may have dropped the card and switched to another. While we can’t chase down every card used, we have been gathering records each time something like this happens, looking for a possible match.”
Brooke Johnson nodded, understanding. “The rental companies have all promised to provide us with a list of cards used for a week on either side of the shooting from all of the their local agencies. So far, only Hertz has come through.”
“Keep on them,” Carlson insisted. “I suspect it is going to be something like the card that gives us the clue we need.”
“There was nothing at the airport that could be connected?” Detective Hardy asked. “Perhaps tickets to somewhere paid with the same card?”
“Nothing, and a great deal of effort has been expended checking,” Carlson explained. “Whoever this guy is, assuming we are dealing with the same individual here, he travels on tickets purchased under a different name. There are simply too many passengers at the major airports to be able to track him without some kind of link.”
Carlson probed the police on several other aspects of the case before he and Agent Dickens took their leave. She hadn’t expected much from the meeting and had learned nothing that her fellow agent hadn’t already passed on to her earlier, but felt it necessary to personally follow-up anyway. She was certain this case was related to the others. She could sense it. She couldn’t point to anything other than the fact the dead man was obviously planning something dramatic and horrible. That seemed to be the common denominator in all of the cases he had been following. What Carlson wanted to know was how their suspect had known what the dead men were apparently planning and how he’d known when to act. Susan Carlson suspected a significant number of innocent people owed their lives to whomever the person was, but it wasn’t the way this was supposed to work. If the man had information, he should be contacting the authorities and allowing them to act, not taking matters into his own hands. He had no right to be the judge and jury even against the kind of men the people he was killing appeared to be. Carlson looked forward to having that discussion with the man one of these days.
Chapter 5
Jake’s right foot slid on the tiny rocks and then slipped out from under him, almost dumping him on his ass as he stepped along the top of the smooth granite rock that led down to the rushing water. The small, loose, and crumbled bits of rock resting on the smooth surface of the larger stone could be treacherous if one wasn’t careful. He regained his balance and stepped more cautiously as he continued toward the water, moving more confidently after he was able to jump back onto the soft ground padded by a thick cushion of pine needles. His clothes were still soaked from the ascent up the misty trail. Jake could see the clouds of mist rising from below when he looked toward the roar that represented the water going over the edge and crashing to the valley far below a short distance farther down the river. The waterfall was especially full this June. When they had exited the trail and made their way to the head of Vernal Falls he had been able to see just how full. The steel pipe fence that was set into the flat expanse of granite near the lip of the falls to keep people back from the rushing river, was well in the flow of the water. Over three-fourths of the steel fence was under water this morning, and the river extended back more than ten feet from where one was usually able to stand and watch or photograph the water as it plunged over the cliff to fall to the pool far below.
Several dozen people were gathered on the flat expanse of smooth granite that surrounded the top of the waterfall, most of whom sitting or lying on the sun warmed stone in an attempt to dry out. Everyone was drenched from the climb, which had been like walking through an especially cold rain. The mist produced as the rushing water impacted the huge boulders below rose and condensed on the trail and the sides of the mountain. The result was a hundred wet stone steps, already troublesome because each was higher than a standard step, but now they were wet as well, and a trail that was more river and puddle than pathway. The last one hundred feet where one climbed alongside the hill with a steel and wire barrier a few feet away to keep one from going over the edge was a miniature river. Everyone’s shoes were soaked through with the cold water. Jake’s were no exception and his Nikes still squished as he moved along the semi-present path down to the water a couple of hundred feet upriver from the waterfall. The Emerald Pool seemed almost calm compared to the cascade rushing down the “slide” into the small lake and the churning mass that bounced away through the rocks headed toward the drop-off. His two friends were still behind him, resting on the rocks like everyone else after the climb. They still didn’t understand why he had changed his mind and elected to take this route. They had talked about turning off onto the John Muir trail several miles earlier for their climb up to Little Yosemite Valley, and then on to Lake Mead where they planned to camp. No Half Dome this trip. They had all done this often enough and Half Dome was too crowded and no longer a fun place to camp.
Zackery Knight and Jake had been friends since elementary school when they had met in the third grade, and had been hiking buddies since they had been old enough to venture into the woods without their parents. It had been Zack who had suggested the weekend outing, and Jake had been quick to agree. He needed to get away and think. Zack’s wife Cheryl was out of town for the week, off in Idaho to stay with her sister who was about to deliver her third child.
Also along today was Nathan Bloomfield. Nate, who was three years younger, had hiked with them once before. He was more Jake’s friend than Zack’s. Nate was a fellow shooter, and Jake had become friends with him during their frequent shoots at the club out near Pyramid Lake back in Nevada. Nate was one hell of a shot, and was nearly always the winner of their IPSC shoots. He had taught Jake a few things, and helped him order his competition .38 Super.
Jake continued moving toward the water, his eyes focused on the movement he had seen a short time ago. Then he moved past the tree and could see the two boys, ten and twelve, wading into the water at the edge of the overly full pond. The water was relatively calm here, but the bed was smooth flat granite that was now wet and extremely slippery. A few feet out from the shore one could see the eddies from a strong current mostly hidden by the sudden depth of the water.
“Get the hell out of there!” Jake yelled sharply as he hurried toward the water. It had taken longer than he had anticipated to make his way from where he’d been watching and drying in the sun with his friends. The two boys were already into the water up to their knees and trying to dare each other to wade out farther. The older boy, the one with unruly red hair looked up at him
in surprise.
“Who are you?” he asked defiantly. His younger brother looked cowed and was already nervously backing up toward the shore, finding it was easier to wade into the water down the slippery granite than to climb back out.
“I’m a cop,” Jake lied. “Can’t you read? The signs say stay out of the water.”
“It’s safe enough here,” the youth argued. “I played here last year. You’re no cop. You can’t tell me what to do!”
Jake had been working his way closer to the two boys as he talked. Just then the young one slipped and dropped into the water, his head almost going under momentarily. Seeing his sibling’s plight, the twelve year old stopped arguing and grabbed the hands of his brother and tried to pull him upright. Jake could see he was having trouble and was able to step in and help pull the younger boy up. Then he pulled them both out of the water onto the shore where they stood dripping wet and shivering.
“Get away from the water and go get dry,” Jake commanded, and pointed up the hill.
The younger one was crying as they headed away. Jake saw them intercepted by an adult before they had gone some thirty yards. The adult talked with the red head, looking toward the water and Jake several times during the discussion. Finally the man pointed up the hill, and after seeing the boys were headed where he had directed, he made his way toward Jake.
“Timmy says you yelled at them,” the man said. “Told them to stay away from the water.”
“The damn fools were already in the water. Another couple of feet and the current would have grabbed them.” Jake pointed at the unmistakable flow of the strong current a short distance from shore.
The man blanched. “They were in the water? I hadn’t noticed. We are all so wet from the hike up here I didn’t think about it. Christ. You can’t look away for a minute.”
The man held out his hand. “Thanks. I was taking care of my wife who found the hike up here more than she was ready for. The kids slipped away. I thought Timmy knew better.”
Jake took the hand, then watched as the man hurried away moments later. The boys were lucky. He had back-tracked of course. Jake and his two friends had been coming down from Lake Mead after spending the night when they had learned of the tragedy. Two boys had gone over the falls the morning before. The Ranger they had met on the trail had the full story and the specifics, including the time and location the event had taken place. It was easy enough for him to back-track to the morning they had been coming up the trail. Forewarned of what was going to happen, Jake had changed their plan and had told his friends he wanted to go the wet route. After a certain amount of grumbling, they had relented, which had allowed them to be in place when the two boys headed down to the water. Jake had chosen his place to dry out where he could see the spot the Ranger had told him they had gone in. Now that wouldn’t happen.
“What’s going on?” Zack asked as he came up behind Jake. He had seen the man come down the hill and approach his friend. He hadn’t been paying attention, resting in the sun with his eyes closed when Jake had rousted the two boys.
“A couple of kids playing in the water,” Jake told him. “I chased ‘em out is all.”
Zack looked at the water and shook his head. “Probably saved their lives,” he reflected.
“Where’s Nate?” Jake asked. “We probably should get going or we won’t make the lake before dark.”
“He went to take a piss,” Zack replied. “He should be back in a minute.”
Fifteen minutes later the three men were back on the trail, moving away from the majority of the hikers. Jake knew that most of those who had come to the top of Vernal Falls would go no farther. The hike up to the top of Nevada falls was much harder, and for the most part only those who planned to spend the night in the back country would continue on. That meant the trail was far less crowded and they could move at their own pace. Zack took the lead with Nate following. Jake brought up the rear, which gave him time to think.
He was at a loss of what to do about Karin. He’d handled the situation badly. For more than two weeks now he had stewed about the matter, and he had come to no conclusion. He had even considered bringing to a halt any attempts to use his ability any longer. Then something like the two boys came up, which told him he probably couldn’t do that.
After the event in Scottsdale, he had decided to propose and had taken her out to dinner and then off to a private spot they both liked where they could talk. He’d felt it necessary to tell her the truth about himself. Anything else would be dishonest, and he didn’t want to risk her learning later by accident. He was certain he would slip up sooner or later if they were together fulltime. He told her about his ability. She, of course, didn’t believe him. He had chosen the night to tell her based on events that no one could have known about. In a couple of hours an unsuspected undersea volcano in the South Pacific would erupt. It would form a small new island. Nothing special, but the kind of thing he shouldn’t have known about.
When they woke up together the next morning it was on the news. Exactly when and where he’d told her. She was shocked, and wanted to know how he did it. He told her the truth. He had no idea. The first time he’d been aware of was the back-track in Afghanistan that had saved him from the IED. At the time he’d had no idea it was anymore than a dream, but later events caused him to investigate and he learned what he could do.
Then he had told her the hard part. He told her what he had been doing. How he had used the ability to stop some of the violent events that had been plaguing our society for some time. She was shocked when he told her he had killed more than a dozen of the deranged individuals over the past half decade.
“You killed them?” she asked aghast.
“It was necessary,” he replied. “They were going to die anyway. I simply killed them before they could hurt anyone else. You know I’d killed before as a soldier. We talked about it.”
“That’s different,” she complained. “That’s warfare.”
“Why is it any different?”
“For one thing warfare is legal. Also, you were shooting at an unknown enemy; random individuals. What you have been doing now is targeting specific individuals. That’s more like murder.”
Jake didn’t understand the distinction and said so. “Wasn’t it better that only the evil doer died?” he asked.
“Why can’t you simply let the authorities deal with it. Use your knowledge to warn them and then stay out of it.”
He’d tried that a couple of times. He’d made anonymous calls to the police and FBI in appropriate locations in an attempt to forestall attacks. The results had been under-whelming. For the most part he’d been disbelieved, especially when he wouldn’t reveal who he was or how he’d come by the information. The police had been more interested in knowing about him. The action taken was usually late and more often than not insufficient to be completely effective. In two of the three instances, the killer had gotten away, and in none of the cases had the authorities stopped the attack without at least several innocents being killed. Twice they had instituted a search with him as a possible suspect that they assumed had backed out of his part in the attacks. Only the fact they had nothing to work with kept him from being found. He’d also tried to warn the authorities about an earthquake and a mining accident. No one had been willing to listen. Just another crackpot was the reception he’d been given. Jake was certain a fear of significant financial loss based on an unverifiable source was one reason they didn’t choose to follow-up on his warnings.
He’d told Karin about these cases.
“What if you explained what you can do? Prove it to someone in the government like you did to me. Then you could go back and tell them when one of these things happens.”
“What kind of life do you think I would have after that?” he asked her. “I would be constantly in demand. There are tens of thousands of events every day. Most are the kind of thing I now have to ignore because I have no hope of doing anything about them. That wouldn’t be the c
ase if I were to do what you have suggested. I would be asked to deal with more than I could handle. Also, there would be those who would want to study me; to try and figure out how I do it. I’d no longer have a life.”
“How do you decide who you are going to help?” she’d asked. “Obviously, it isn’t everyone.”
“A lot depends on whether it is something I can handle on my own. It has to happen close enough I can get there, and it has to be something I can alter without relying on any other help. In a way, it’s like neighbors. If someone’s house burns down across town, you feel bad, but don’t do anything. If your neighbor’s house burns down, you pitch in and try and help.”
They had argued about it for several hours. Karin was simply not willing to see his point of view. She was appalled at what he had done, and was frankly uncomfortable being with him. Clearly, he had changed in her perspective. She’d never personally been exposed to any violence, and couldn’t reconcile what he was doing with her vision of the world. In the end he’d taken her home, his hopes for their relationship shattered.
Then he’d back-tracked. Knowing the outcome of his revealing his secret to her, he hadn’t done so. That meant things were in a kind of limbo. He wanted to go forward with Karin, but he didn’t know how. Telling her, at least in as much detail as he had, wouldn’t work. Keeping a secret wouldn’t work either. There had to be some middle ground. Either that, or he stopped his activities entirely, and let the secret stay hidden. Hence his need to think.
“You’re sure quiet today,” Nate observed when they stopped for a break a few miles short of their destination.
“Thorny software puzzle,” he lied. Both Zack and Nate knew he’d started working on a new game. “Are you sure you should have brought that?” he asked Nate changing the subject. Nate had a short barreled .454 Casul in a shoulder holster under his outer vest.
