Corrector

by Blink, Bob

  Three days after arriving at the cottages, Jake set off for home. He’d seen the owner leave earlier, and took a few moments to switch out the plates before leaving. Then he drove away leaving the keys on the table indicating he’d found it necessary to depart early.

  Jake continued north on Highway 13, passing through Craig, Colorado that was famous for elk hunting later in the day, where he grabbed lunch at a drive through. He’d dumped the bags of clothes and everything else out in the country. After lunch, he continued on the smaller roads northward until he intersected Highway 80. That night he stayed in Salt Lake City as himself, back on the route he’d been traveling when he learned of Granger’s death. He treated himself to a decent meal for a change, and slept in late the next morning. Late the following day he pulled into his own driveway.

  He called Nate and Zack to let them know he was back. They promised to get together over the weekend. Jake called Karin on her house phone. He felt that calling her on her cellular was inappropriate somehow, as if he might catch her at an inopportune time. The message he heard had been modified and indicated she was out of town for a couple of weeks. He could have tried to reach her, but decided he would wait. He’d had his time away. He’d let her have her own. Perhaps when she returned they would see if the relationship were really over.

  Just over a week later he received a call from Karin’s brother with the tragic news.

  Chapter 15

  Special Agent Susan Carlson made a come in motion to Shaun Hansen with her left hand as he finished up the telephone call she had been tied up with for more than twenty minutes.

  “Let me know if you find anything,” she said, then placed the handset on the base with a sigh of relief completing the exchange.

  Hansen was smiling.

  “You have something?” Carlson asked hopefully. There had been nothing new for a number of weeks.

  “Our suspect used his credit card a few days ago.”

  Carlson perked up. “Finally. A few days ago? How come it has taken so long to come to our attention?”

  “A quirk of the place where he used it,” Hansen explained. “He stayed one night at a swanky hotel resort in Colorado. The people who tend to stay there have money, and the hotel apparently doesn’t turn in the receipts every day. Apparently they don’t get stiffed very often.”

  “Where is this place?” Carlson asked.

  “Edwards, Colorado.”

  “I’ve never heard of it.”

  “It’s about a hundred and fifty miles outside of Denver. It’s on one of the main roads and on the way to Vail, one of the ski resorts. There are dozens of golf courses and fantastic scenery from the photos of the place.”

  “He used the same name and credit card as we’ve seen before?”

  “Yeah. We’ve seen the card a couple of times before.”

  “You said the suspect stayed there a couple of nights ago. That implies he has since disappeared. Did anything happen in the area. I haven’t seen anything in the daily summaries relating to that part of the country.”

  “Nothing,” Hansen confirmed. “I even called the local police. There have been no crimes in the area at all.”

  “Odd. A single night in such an unusual spot, with no activity.”

  “Maybe he was simply vacationing.”

  “Unlikely. There had to be some reason for him to have used that credit card; some reason why he didn’t want to use a card with his real name. What about rental cars? Has anything shown up in their records?”

  “Nothing. I specifically scanned everything for all of Colorado a second time. Nothing with the name or any of the cards we have seen before.” Hansen hesitated. “I think he might have been using his own vehicle.”

  That caused a reaction in Carlson. “What would make you think that?”

  “I called the hotel. Hotels generally ask guests to record their vehicle make and plate number on the check-in forms. I thought we might get something. It turns out they use a standard form that requests such information, although they really don’t care if the guest fills it in and don’t use it for anything. Our suspect indicated he was driving a Chevy, although nothing on the model, and entered a license. One of the numbers was hard to decipher, but I ran a check on all possible options.”

  “I sense you are not satisfied with the result.”

  “Something doesn’t fit. This hotel is a high class establishment. The plate number listed is very old. Either of the two possible numbers were issued in the mid 1980’s. A vehicle that old would stand out. Besides, one was an old Ford Mustang, and the other a Dodge pickup. Neither were Chevys. Why would he indicate a different model? That would be asking for unwanted attention.”

  “He swapped out his plates,” Carlson said softly.

  “That’s what I was thinking as well,” agreed Hansen.

  “The only reason for him to do something like that comes to mind would be a desire to hide the real numbers because it is a vehicle that might lead back to him,” Carlson said. “The situation looks as if something came up unexpectedly that forced him into action and he had to make atypical plans. I assume there was nothing at the airports?”

  “Denver is a hundred and fifty miles away. There was nothing there that matches our database. I also checked the Eagle County Regional Airport, a much smaller airport that services the area. Nothing we’ve seen before there either.”

  “That’s not surprising. The airport link hasn’t been of much help to us in the past and if our guess is correct, our man was in the area for some other reason. Did anyone at the hotel remember him?”

  “The person I talked with wasn’t on the desk at the time he checked in. I arranged for a call later in the day when she comes in.”

  “Better yet we get someone from the Denver office to go out there. Maybe someone can remember this guy. Maybe someone saw him and the vehicle. If we can get that, we can canvas the surrounding area. I’ll arrange that when we’re done. Anything else?”

  Hansen looked like he was about to shake his head when he suddenly asked. “Do you think this guy might have his own plane? I got to thinking about it when I was checking out the local airport. At first I expected the Eagle County Airport to be a tiny place, but they do have commercial service. The place he stayed is for people with money. That plus my thoughts about the airport got me to wondering if he could have flown in on a small plane rather than an airliner.”

  “I can’t believe we didn’t think of that earlier,” Carlson said. “If he is coming in that way, I wonder what kind of records would be kept.”

  “Even if he is using a different name linked to a private plane, we could check and see which tail numbers were in an area at the time of the crimes we have associated with this guy. Not all small airports record the tail numbers of planes that overnight, but many do. If the same plane is in the area, there is a real chance it might be him. The crimes have spanned a wide portion of the country. The same plane being there would be an incredible coincidence.”

  “That sounds promising. Get started on that and I’ll get someone out to this hotel to start asking questions. Are you certain that nothing has happened in the area recently?”

  “Nothing like we’ve seen before. The usual daily crimes in Denver, but they don’t appear to be related. Around Edwards, nothing. The only excitement out there was the close escape of that actor?”

  Carlson’s look indicated she didn’t follow Hansen.

  “The actor Bret Granger. His house was swept away by a mudslide around that time. They’ve been having unseasonable rains, and he missed by an hour or so of having been inside when his place up there was buried and destroyed when the hill behind it gave way. Probably would have killed him if he’d been inside.”

  “I can’t see how that would be related,” Carlson said.

  “Me either, but that’s the only news events for some time out of the place.”

  Carlson thought for a minute. “I’ll have our agent talk with Granger.”

 
Chapter 16

  Jake maneuvered through the heavy traffic with his BMW as he searched for the turn-off that would take him away from metro Sacramento and south toward San Francisco. This particular section of freeway always baffled him for some reason, and he always ended up in a slightly different location than his mind prepared him for. He felt he should be south of the capitol after he transitioned freeways, but when the freeway exchanges had been negotiated he found he was several miles north of the city. He would have to drive a few more miles before the madness of the city traffic would start to fall off.

  He was tense and uptight, and more than a little anxious to get to his destination as much as he hated driving in the confusion of San Francisco. His mind kept replaying the call he had gotten a few hours earlier this morning.

  “Jake?” asked a voice that he hadn’t recognized. There was however, something in the voice that gave him forewarning that it was bad news.

  “Yes,” he’d replied cautiously.

  “This is Dave Wolter, Karin’s brother. We met once before.”

  Jake remembered, although he couldn’t put a face on the voice. Karin had introduced them when they had flown back to visit her hometown for a friend’s wedding. Dave had been one of dozens of people he’d met over the course of two days and none of the names and faces had stuck. As Karin’s only surviving family member, he should have, but Jake was horrible with names and faces, and for some reason they had never run across one another again. Now, for some reason, he was calling and Jake knew immediately that something had happened to Karin.

  Dave confirmed Jake’s fears with his next statement. “Karin’s been hurt. She’s in the hospital. I know you and she have had some kind of a disagreement, but I thought you would want to know.”

  “Crap!” he said without thinking. “What happened? Where is she? How is she?”

  “She’s not good. Very bad actually. The doctor doesn’t know if she’ll recover. She’s in a coma at the moment, and even if she does come out of that, they have serious concerns whether she’ll be mentally normal. They had to go into her head. I guess they didn’t like what they found.”

  “Noooo.” Jake couldn’t help the cry that escaped from his lips. “What happened?”

  “Did you see the news the other day about that nut in San Francisco that shot up a bunch of tourists? Karin and her friend Ellen got caught up in that. Both were wounded, Karin more seriously, but Ellen’s in the hospital as well.”

  Jake knew Ellen, although not well. He knew that she and Karin had been close for a long time. He’d also been very much aware of the shooting. He had been following the news for details, although very little was known as yet. Other than a count of killed and wounded and the location and time of the event, the news had been extremely thin. He had been hoping for something that might give him a chance to undo the shootings, but it sounded as if the killer had gotten away and the police had no leads.

  The shooter had somehow gained access to the top floor of the tallest structure in the Ghirardelli square complex, and from the roof had randomly emptied three magazines from an Uzi semi-auto into the crowded square below. Twenty-three people had been killed and more than three dozen were wounded. In many cases a single round had wounded more than one victim, passing through one individual to strike another in the crowded area. After shooting, the killer had left behind the Uzi and the spent magazines, and had slipped away unseen. There were apparently few witnesses, and so far the police hadn’t released even a vague description of the killer. Unless the police were working leads that hadn’t been broadcast on the news, the man had gotten away clean.

  Jake nodded that he’d been aware of the shootings, then realized he couldn’t be seen. “I’ve been watching the news he confirmed. Karin was in San Francisco?”

  “She and Ellen had been driving around the last couple of weeks. They spent some time in Los Angeles and were working their way back home. I gather they had just arrived in the Bay Area the previous evening.”

  “Where is she? Where are you?”

  “She’s at the UCSF Medical Center on Divisadero in San Francisco,” Dave explained. “I’m in my hotel a few blocks away. I just came from the hospital. I was able to get Karin’s cell phone, and found your number on it and thought I should call. I don’t know what exactly happened between you two. I have to admit I was surprised. I thought you were headed a different direction and I’d be getting a wedding invitation. Whatever, if you want to see her, you might want to fly down here. I don’t think she has much time left.”

  Jake had felt a deep chill at Dave’s warning. “I’ll drive down. It will be almost as fast. I’ll be there this afternoon. Give me your cell number so I can contact you.”

  Dave had done so, but also said that he would keep Karin’s phone with him, so Jake could call her number and reach him as well. Jake had quickly thrown a few things into the car and set off.

  Two hours after passing through Sacramento, Jake found himself trying to navigate the maze of streets in downtown San Francisco. He had the iPad with Google maps to help, but it was still a nearly impossible task. Finally he could see the hospital ahead, and followed the signs to the parking structure. He valet parked and hurried into the building, knowing that a few minutes wouldn’t matter one way or the other but driven to get to Karin’s side as soon as possible.

  Dave had given him the room number and directions, so he was able to make his way unerringly to the room where she was assigned. He had to pass through two sets of nurses and explain who he was and whom he wanted to visit before the way was clear. As he stepped into the semi-darkened room, he saw a figure wrapped in bandages on the bed. He wouldn’t have known it was her. Her face was partially wrapped and her head was encircled with heavy bandages. One leg was partially exposed and wrapped up as well. That was where the second bullet had struck, breaking her thigh. Monitors flashed and beeped quietly and a dozen wires and tubes extended from the equipment toward the silent figure on the bed. Jake felt his chest clench even as he detected movement from off to his side.

  “Jake,” said the voice he’d spoken with earlier. “I’m glad you made it.”

  Jake glanced briefly at the man who had stood up from a chair in the corner. He’d been reading something on an electronic reader, the screen glowing softly on the chair where he’d set it down.

  “My god, she looks horrible,” Jake observed. “Is she still alive?”

  “Barely,” Dave confirmed. “The doctor was here a little while ago. Her brain activity has them worried. It is slowing down. They think she might be brain dead. There are more tests they want to run later this afternoon.”

  Jake listened but his eyes were focused on the still figure. He walked slowly over to the bed and looked down at the slack face of the woman he loved. He’d convinced himself over the past two months that he could go on without her if she wouldn’t accept who he was. Now he didn’t know if that was true, but under any circumstances he had to know she was alright. This had to be fixed. He watched for several minutes trying to detect signs of life. He could see the barest movement of her chest to indicate she was breathing, but otherwise she was as still as death.

  Jake looked over at Dave. He was tall, a little over six feet and powerfully built. He had light brown hair and features that clearly revealed the connection between himself and his sister. “She’s gonna die, isn’t she?” Jake asked. He could feel his eyes misting up.

  Dave nodded solemnly. “I think so. The doctors have as much as said so. There’s a small chance, but she’ll be a vegetable if she pulls through. It’s probably better if she passes.”

  Jake took a long slow breath, rejecting the possibility. “What do you know about her and Ellen? When did they get into the city? Where were they staying? Where were they before they got to San Francisco?”

  Dave shook his head. “I don’t know. It doesn’t seem to matter. They were on vacation. I’ve been focused on her condition and have spent all my time at the hospital. Maybe the
police have located their hotel, but they’ve been overwhelmed by the situation. What does it matter?”

  “Trust me, it’s important.” Jake said. “I need to know where she was before this happened. It’s the only way I can go back and help her.”

  “Jake, face it. There’s nothing you can do,” Dave said sympathetically, not understanding the words Jake had spoken. “All you can do now is be here for her. Maybe she will know somehow.”

  “No,” Jake objected. “There is something more, but I can’t explain it to you. You wouldn’t understand. What about her friend Ellen? Where is she and is she awake and able to talk?”

  Dave grimaced. “The policeman that came by this morning indicated she was out of danger and was awake. She didn’t know anything. One moment they were coming out of the Chocolate Factory, and the next moment people were dropping all around them. She saw Karin get hit in the side of the head, and then was struck herself. Nothing she can tell you will help you.”

  “It’s not the shooting I need to know about. I want to know where they were before the day of the shooting. Do you know what hospital she’s in?”

  “She’s in Saint Francis Memorial, a couple of miles from here. You aren’t thinking of going there? Can’t it wait? You should be here with Karin.”

  Jake was already thinking ahead to what he needed to ask Ellen. “What’s her last name? I forgot it, and I’ll need it when I ask for her.”

  “Smith. Her name is Ellen Smith.”

  “Jake, you’re acting crazy. Sit down. You just got here. Accept what has happened.”

  Jake shook his head and walked over to Karin. He looked down and gently rested his hand on her shoulder visible through the sheet.