Corrector

by Blink, Bob

“Okay Jake Waters. Listen up. I want you to leave this place. If you are thinking of trying to find this guy and take your own action, forget it. This is police business. I’m sorry about your girlfriend, but there is nothing you can do.”

  The sympathetic look he’d received earlier had been replaced by a much sterner look. The cop wasn’t certain about him, and Jake knew he might be thinking about having him questioned as a result of his ill-advised remark. Probably only a residual sympathy had bought him any consideration.

  Jake nodded and took back the license the cop held out to him. “Sorry. It’s hard, you know?” he muttered contritely, hoping to defuse the situation. Then he turned and walked away.

  He headed back up the street the way he had come. He had seen all that he would be able to for now. The two entrances that Karin and Ellen might have used coming from the direction they had were sharp in his mind. He hailed a cab, and had it drop him back at the hotel.

  Jake had planned to scout around the area a little more, but the encounter with the cop had made him uncomfortable and as a result he checked out and drove north out of the city across the Golden Gate Bridge. Forty-five minutes later he was in Vallejo, parked in front of the Best Western Inn. He went inside and rode the elevators up to the second floor, then walked down the hall to find the room. A set of stairs led downward several doors away and Jake went down that way. At the bottom was a door out to the courtyard, but it was locked from the outside. He could leave, but would need a room key to be able to enter that way. Satisfied, he headed back to his car and drove home.

  He spent the afternoon searching the Internet, but it was pretty obvious that nothing had been found and there was a very good chance the shooter had gotten away clean. He was stressed and tired, and needed sleep. He would try and complete his planning in the morning, then back-track and undo as much of the situation as possible. This time, the priority was Karin. He hoped to be able to prevent the attack completely, but he needed a plan that ensured Karin was safe most of all.

  Chapter 18

  Jake realized he was focused on his clock, his partially open eyes fixated on the red numerals. It was 8:16 in the morning and he felt emotionally drained. Today was day five since the event and he didn’t know at the moment whether Karin was dead or alive. He didn’t want to know. He hated himself for not being there at her side, but he wanted nothing more than to back-track and make all of this just a horrible nightmare. Rationally, he knew he needed to be here where he was so he could back-track. In San Francisco he was too far from his physical self of the days before the event and therefore wouldn’t be able to make the transition. Soon enough he’d go. Today sometime for sure. But he needed to see if anything new had been learned that would make his task easier.

  He threw back the tangled covers, the sign of a restless night, forced himself out of bed. He padded across the room in his shorts and into the kitchen nook where he turned on the television so he could watch while he fixed something to eat. He flipped channels for a minute, then stopped when he found a news channel that was reviewing the story. It had become harder to find anything on the killings. Too many days had passed and with nothing new to tantalize viewers, it had become old news. Sure enough. There was nothing in the report to help him. They showed the same pictures of the backpack and weapons, as well of the short video of Ghirardelli Square, some taken after the attack and some of the footage obviously stock footage of the tourist attraction. Jake left the story running and turned to fixing something. He thought better on a full stomach, and he had a lot of planning to do before he transitioned.

  He was halfway through scrambling his eggs when his phone rang. He frozen momentarily, not wanting to answer. He was almost certain it would be about Karin. It was probably Dave calling to chastise him and tell him that she had passed. He couldn’t think of anyone else who might be calling at this time of day. Both Zack and Nate would be at work. Reluctantly and with his heart thumping in his chest he turned down the heat and walked over to where the phone sat on the countertop.

  “Hello,” he said hesitantly into the mouthpiece.

  “Jake Waters?” a voice he had never heard before asked.

  “Yes. This is he. Who is this?”

  “I’m Detective Stan Howard of the San Francisco police,” the voice said. “I’d like to ask you a few questions.”

  “San Francisco?”

  “Yes. You were here yesterday. I learned that you had checked out of your hotel and assumed you had traveled back to your home. I’m a little surprised, but at least I’ve located you.”

  He wanted to quickly establish where I was. “What would you want to speak to me about?”

  “You were at Girardelli Square yesterday. You talked with a patrolman while you were there. He sensed an unusual intensity in you during your brief encounter. He felt it important enough to bring the matter to the attention of his sergeant at the end of his shift. The sergeant passed the report upwards, and eventually it came to me. After reading over the report and investigating the facts I felt it prudent to speak with you.”

  Jake tensed. So the bastard had reported him. It was his own damn fault for reacting as he had, but his emotions were not exactly under control the last couple of days.

  “I remember the officer,” Jake admitted. “He asked for my name when I got angry about the shooter who wounded my girlfriend.”

  “Yes, that’s correct. If the story I was given is correct, and I have no reason to suspect otherwise, you lied to the officer Mr. Waters.”

  “Lied? Lied how?”

  “I was told that you informed Patrolman Samuels that your girlfriend had died. That wasn’t the case. She was still alive in the hospital.”

  “She was in a coma and fading fast. The doctors gave her no chance of surviving. They never expect her to wake up. It was easier than explaining the situation in detail. It was too personal.”

  “I can understand how it must be,” the detective said. “Yet, at the time she was still alive at the Medical Center. It seems very strange that you would be out in the city while she was still alive. Most people stay at the side of loved ones until the very end. I have a bit of trouble reconciling your actions with what I would expect from someone in your shoes.”

  “I had to get away. Her brother was with her.”

  “Yes, so I’ve learned. Yet you never returned, electing to drive home without checking back on her condition. Your girlfriend’s brother indicates you were acting strange in his estimation, and said a number of things that didn’t make sense. You seemed focused on issues that were mostly irrelevant to the situation.”

  Irrelevant to you. Not to me and what I need to know to proceed. “It’s something you wouldn’t understand,” Jake said.

  “Obviously so. I have trouble imagining your leaving someone you loved while they were dying. You know she died during the night didn’t you?”

  It was obvious from his question that he knew that Jake didn’t know. He must have checked to see if he’d called back, either to the brother or the hospital. Jake had deliberately not wanted her death in his memory. Even though he would be back-tracking and making this situation go away, he would retain all these memories. He hadn’t wanted that one. Now the detective had forced it upon him. He felt a tear slide down his cheek.

  “I assumed as much, but no, I didn’t know for certain.”

  “I see. Would your attitude with regards to the woman have anything to do with the rift that developed between you two? Her brother implied that you two had split a couple of months earlier. So I guess you weren’t actually being truthful when you said she was your girlfriend? That’s a bit of past history.”

  “That wasn’t resolved yet,” Jake replied suddenly annoyed. “I had been out of the area for a number of weeks, and just returned to learn of this tragedy.”

  “Where did you go?”

  “That’s not relevant. I just wanted to get away.”

  “I see. Well, the thought has been suggested that the killer mi
ght have been targeting someone specific and the others at the scene were simply a distraction to his real intent. That kind of thing has happened before, although usually not with so many victims. As someone with a potential grudge against one of the victims, you are naturally someone of interest.”

  “You think I shot Karin and the others because we had a fight?” Jake was stunned where this was leading.

  “It would be good to rule the possibility out. It’s important we follow-up every prospect.”

  “This is ridiculous,” Jake said.

  “Perhaps. But I think this needs to be discussed in person.”

  “You want me to come to San Francisco. I just returned home.”

  “No, no. For the moment I think an interview can be conducted by someone from your local police department. I will follow up with a call to the FBI to check on your background, and depending on the outcome of that discussion, I’ll decide if you need to return here. Would something like that be acceptable?”

  All this because of a single unwise statement in front of a watchful cop. “Fine, fine. Where should I go?”

  “I’ll have someone from the Sparks Police Department drop by this morning. Can I assume you will be at your residence?”

  “Yes. I’ll still be here,” Jake replied.

  “Wonderful. I’ll probably speak with you again afterwards. Goodbye.”

  Jake set the headset back onto the base unit. He didn’t need this kind of distraction right now. Perhaps there might be a small benefit however. If he could learn something from the cops that wasn’t on the news it might aid him later. He decided to see it through and what he might learn.

  He went back to the stove and started a new batch of eggs. The ones he’d been cooking were a cold soggy mess by this time. He found himself looking around the room. He’d long thought himself prepared against a search by the police as the result of his adventures, but now suddenly he wondered if everything was as much in order as he thought. He couldn’t think of anything he needed to do, but he found his breakfast didn’t sit well as he waited for someone to arrive. He wished that Detective Howard had been more specific about the time.

  Thirty-five minutes after he’d hung up the phone, he heard the sound of tires on the driveway outside. They were surprisingly prompt, Jake decided. For some reason, this was looking to be more important to them than he realized. Jake stood and walked over to the door. He was almost there when the doorbell rang.

  He opened the door to a group of officers. In the front was an older gentleman in plain clothes. He was about fifty, with salt and pepper hair. He looked fit and strong, with sharp blue eyes that stared at Jake as if he could see every secret. Next to him was a powerful looking uniformed officer. This man was black, in his early forties and wore a Glock in a standard holster along with the usual array of items a policeman would wear. Behind him stood four other officers of varying ages and appearance.

  The gentleman in civilian clothing held out a folder with his badge. “Mr. Waters?” he asked.

  Jake recognized the voice. “Detective Howard?” he asked surprised. “I thought you were in San Francisco.”

  “Well, yes. I did imply as much. Actually I was outside in the car.”

  “Why the pretense?”

  “I thought it would be informative to see your reaction to my call. Perhaps you would have attempted to leave.”

  “To run, you mean?”

  Howard shrugged. “It would have been informative.” He reached into his pocket and handed Jake a couple of sheets of paper.

  “What’s this?”

  “Search warrant. These gentlemen will be making a search while we have our discussion.”

  Jake looked at the paper. He’d never seen one before and wouldn’t know if it was legitimate or not. He had to assume it must be.

  “Are you really a San Francisco detective, or are you local?”

  “I’m really from San Francisco. I flew in earlier this morning when we were sure you were here. Your cell phone indicated you had returned home. Very handy things those phones.”

  So Howard had known where he was when he called. Jake had been wrong about the reason he’d used the land line.

  “I need to advise you of your rights.”

  Then Howard read him the legal warnings from a small card that he slipped back into a pocket when he was finished.

  “Do you understand what I just read you? You might want a lawyer. You have that right. The search will go on regardless of what you decide, but if you want to have counsel, we can go down to the station and wait.”

  The implication was they could have a comfortable chat here if Jake didn’t require the lawyer, but if he wanted to resist, they would do this the harder way.

  “Please, come in. I have no reason to need a lawyer. We can talk in the living room.”

  They all stepped inside. Jake noted that the four officers behind Howard and the black cop immediately set off about their search. Howard and the large cop followed Jake into the living room where they sat down.

  “Very nice place you have here,” Detective Howard noted. “What is it that you do?”

  Jake was certain Howard already knew, but he’d play the game. He told him about his programming.

  “You’ve been lucky with the market also,” Howard said, confirming he already knew a fair amount about Jake.

  “Excuse me if I’m out of line here, but it seems to me that you are taking this awfully far based on a simple comment I made.”

  Detective Howard smiled wryly. “The comment was just a trigger. Your actions given the circumstances, along with this has gained our interest.” He motioned to the cop, who handed over an envelope. Howard pulled out a drawing from the inside and passed it over to Jake.

  It was a sketch of a young male. The man was bearded, with hair and general features not too unlike his own. There was no way to tell any more about him from the sketch.

  “That was made from the input taken from more than two dozen people. It’s a composite of someone who might have been the shooter. He’s said to be about your height and age, and you can see a certain resemblance to yourself. Tell me, have you ever worn a beard?”

  Jake thought about the beard he’d had until recently. Both Zack and Nate had seen the beard he’d started before departing on his trip, and neither had seen him since his return. If asked, they would have to reveal he’d started one. He had no way to prove it had been removed before he’d returned to Sparks.

  “I had one until just recently. I didn’t want to shave while on my trip. I removed it a little over a week ago when I was almost home. Mind’s a bit lighter than that, of course.”

  “Your trip. I’ll want to go over that in detail, of course. I’ll warn you that I’ve asked for your phone records, so that should help us establish where you were during that time. You say you got back over a week ago. That would have put you back in town before the events in San Francisco.”

  Jake hadn’t said when he had returned to Sparks and was suddenly certain that Howard already had seen his phone records and knew where he’d been and when he’d returned. The man liked to mislead you with what he knew and didn’t.

  Before they could get too deep into the discussion, one of the cops that was searching his house walked over and spoke quietly into Howard’s ear. He also handed him a plastic bag with something inside.

  “They have found a gun safe,” he said when the cop stepped away and returned to his task. “Oh, and this as well.” Howard held up the bag which contained a bottle of the hair coloring dye that Jake liked to use. He’d forgotten that he always kept a couple of bottles on hand. Detective Howard looked at him meaningfully.

  “Do you think we could impose upon you to open the safe for us?” Howard asked politely. “There are other means of getting inside, but they are ultimately somewhat destructive.”

  “Why not?” Jake said. “Let’s go.”

  “You appear to like guns,” Detective Howard noted once the door was open. �
�I’m surprised at the suppressors. Those aren’t exactly common items.”

  By now Jake was warming up to Howard, and he was certain the man already knew about his registered collection, including the two suppressors in this safe that were fully registered.

  “I have full documentation for everything in here,” he explained, and pointed to a folder that contained records for the items. He had no intention of defending the specific items.

  Howard nodded toward one of the cops who reached in and retrieved the folder.

  Another of the searchers showed Howard a box on ammunition. It was one of several types of 9mm ammunition that Jake had on hand. He had four or five thousands rounds. He was suddenly certain that this particular brand was the same type the shooter had used.

  “Document everything inside,” Detective Howard instructed the man. To Jake, he said, “Let’s go back in the other room where it’s quiet and continue our discussion. They can handle this without us.”

  Jake didn’t like having people paw through his stuff, but there was nothing he could do about it. They returned to the living room where Howard began his questions. Jake decided he wasn’t going to learn anything more, but the picture he’d seen and the description of the possible killer was a significant gain. When one of the cops came in and indicated they’d found the second gun safe, Jake decided he’d had enough of this.

  Making a mental note that he was going to rethink his hiding of the operational safe at some point, he back-tracked eight days. While he preferred to start and end these transitions from a position of rest and comfort, he’d long ago established he could transition at any time, which in this case worked in his favor.

  Chapter 19

  The memories rocked Jake like a physical blow. The combined mental and physical stress caused him to audibly groan and grab his head. Momentarily his heart hammered in his chest, then slowly backed down as he realized that Karin was at the moment safe and well. She would be on the road, somewhere between Los Angeles and Northern California. He was going to have to be certain she remained safe. The visit by Detective Howard wasn’t a concern. That would never happen. He would ensure he didn’t come to the attention of the San Francisco police. The visit did point out, however, that he wasn’t as well protected as he’d thought. It had taken them less than an hour to uncover his hidden stash of weapons. When he had time, he’d need to address that situation.