Fatal 5

by Karin Kaufman

Jack pretended not to see or hear. When he got past the stairway, he ran to Thornton’s office, slammed the door, and ran to the file cabinet. Whipping the file drawer open, he shoved the original hanging file back in its place, but it wouldn’t slide in properly.

  “C’mon. C’mon.” He finally made some room, got it in place and closed the drawer. He turned around, trying to act nonchalant, expecting Thornton to come in any second.

  Wait, he thought, the file cabinet. He had forgotten to lock it.

  # # #

  Thornton ended his conversation with a student and made his way up the stairs. If he did run into any of his peers, he would just say he’d come in to get a few things to work on at home, try to look and sound sick as he spoke. That should be easy to fake, looking and feeling the way he did. He hadn’t even shaved yet today. He rounded the corner of the stairwell and walked toward his office. Thornton was actually glad Jack hadn’t seen him and was reassured that Jack looked all right.

  He was so relieved all this was finally over. He longed for things to be normal again.

  # # #

  Jack fidgeted with the file drawer keys. After getting it locked, he tossed the keys back in the desk drawer. Just as it closed, Thornton walked in.

  “Jack, I’m surprised to find you here. Thought you would have left already. I called you from the steps. Guess you didn’t hear me.” All business as usual.

  Jack turned around. “No, I didn’t hear you, Professor.” He looked at Thornton and quickly turned away. What should he do? It was like seeing someone he had never met before. He wanted to scream and swear, long and loud—right in the man’s face. Then he wanted to pounce on him with his fists, let Thornton feel his rage and frustration.

  “You all right, Jack?”

  Like you care, thought Jack. “Fine,” he forced out. “But, I’ve gotta go. I’m supposed to meet Rachel for lunch, right now. I just ducked in here to get away from a few students who were hanging around a little too long.”

  Thornton smiled. “I do that all the time.”

  Out of the corner of his eye, Jack noticed his freshly-made copies sitting in plain view, face up on Thornton’s desk. He backed up and grabbed the files with his right hand and slid them behind his back. Keeping the copies close, his back to the door, he sidestepped away from Thornton.

  “By the way, did you get my message this morning, Jack?”

  Jack backed up, almost to the door. “Oh, yeah. I did. Hope you feel better soon. Sorry, but I really gotta go.”

  Out the door he went.

  # # #

  Thornton thought Jack was acting strangely, but he didn’t spend too much time worrying about it. At least Jack was alive, and he looked healthy.

  So Thornton did what he’d come there to do. He pulled the file cabinet key from his desk drawer, unlocked it and slid out his file with Jameison’s instructions. He’d feel a lot better getting this into his safe deposit box back at the bank.

  Before stepping into the hallway, Thornton peeked through the door. The coast was clear. He slipped out of his office and walked down the stairway, out the way he came.

  # # #

  Jack trotted across campus against a frigid wind. Rachel had just texted him, saying she was sitting at the same bench they had met at a few times before. The frigid wind of reality was starting to sink in. He thought through what he should tell her.

  There was no way he could hide something like this.

  39

  “What’s wrong, Jack?” Rachel asked.

  Jack was slightly out of breath.

  “You didn’t have to run like that,” she said. “We’ve got plenty of time. Come here. Sit down.” He joined her on the bench. “Why were you running?” When Jack lifted his face, his eyes must have conveyed something was dreadfully wrong. “Has something happened?”

  “Here.” He handed her the copies from Thornton’s files. They were wrinkled from their journey across campus in his jacket. He looked around but there was no sign of anyone paying them any undue attention.

  “What is this?” Rachel said.

  “Just read it.”

  She took the copies, snuggled closer to him then read in silence a few moments. “I don’t understand. What am I looking at?”

  “Proof,” Jack said. His breathing had almost returned to normal.

  “Proof of what?”

  Where should he begin? Whatever he said would sound ridiculous. Even now, with the files right in front of him, he found it difficult to believe. “Rachel, what you’re looking at is the cause of my dreams.”

  “What?” she said. “How? I don’t get it.”

  “What do you see on the first page?”

  “I see…four names. They look like names from those old Disney characters. I don’t remember the story.”

  “They’re from the Uncle Remus stories. Bre’r Rabbit and the Briar Patch.”

  “That’s right. And beside them, I see four sets of initials. Two of them are crossed out.”

  “Read the initials.”

  She did. “So? What does it mean? What does it have to do with your dreams?”

  Jack glanced down at the sheet. He realized the phrase Code Name didn’t appear anywhere on his copies. “These are code names, Rachel. I pulled these from a file folder in Thornton’s cabinet. From a locked drawer. This particular folder had the words Code Names written on the tab.”

  “Code names…what’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Read the initials again. Whose initials are first?”

  She looked again. “JT,” she said aloud.

  “What are my initials?”

  She nodded. “Okay?”

  “Now read the second set.”

  “The first one crossed out?”

  “Right.”

  “RR … RR. Who is RR?”

  “What’s the name of the student who died last week in his sleep?”

  Rachel thought a moment. “Ralph? RR … Ralph Riesner.”

  “His name’s crossed out because he’s dead,” Jack said. “Do you remember the name of the kid who just committed suicide Saturday?”

  “I think his name was Jared Markum. I didn’t know him personally.”

  “Look at the initials on the 2nd crossed out name.”

  “JM,” she read aloud. “Jared Markum.”

  “Right. I didn’t know his name, but that just proves it even more. Thornton crossed his name off, because he’s dead, too.”

  “Who’s this other name?”

  “I don’t know. My guess is it’s another student from one of Thornton’s other classes. Now skip to the second sheet.” Jack watched her eyes as they slid back and forth across the page. At one point, they widened brightly.

  “Are you thinking this means—”

  “It means he’s been drugging me, Rachel.” Jack rubbed his forehead. “It means he drugged Ralph. I think it means he also killed Ralph.”

  “Killed Ralph? Jack, do you hear what you’re saying?”

  “And he’s responsible for the kid who jumped. I’m sure of it. Look at it, Rachel. I know it sounds bizarre, but look at the first page again. The line drawn through Ralph and Jared’s code names and initials.”

  Rachel looked again. “Why would Thornton kill Ralph, or Jared? Why would he drug you?”

  “I don’t know why, but look at the second page again…Pick four students. Must be healthy. No medical problems. Four times, spread several days apart.” Jack could tell it was beginning to sink in. “Use in drinks, or with food. Tasteless, odorless…I had to leave them in Thornton’s file cabinet, but these sheets were in a handful of manila folders that were all stuck in one hanging folder. The main tab was labeled: Jameison - Drug Tests.”

  Rachel’s shoulders dropped. She looked toward the ground for a moment, shaking her head. “So who is Jameison?”

  “I don’t know. The point is…everything here has to do with drug tests. That’s what we’re looking at. Thornton is involved with somebody named Jameison. He’s
secretly been giving us some kind of drug that affects people’s dreams. He’s done it to me and to these other two guys. I think these drugs are responsible for Ralph’s death. You remember how he died.”

  “In his sleep.”

  “And remember Thornton saying his parents didn’t know he had anything wrong with him? And how upset he acted about Ralph’s death?”

  She nodded soberly.

  “And remember this morning I told you the three things—the only three things—that were the same all three times I had the dreams?”

  Rachel nodded, her face full of anxiety.

  “On all three occasions I either ate with Professor Thornton, or like last night, drank a glass of wine from a bottle I got from him. Think about it…Mix in drinks, or with food. Tasteless, odorless…and I remembered, those two nights I did eat with him, he drank from a separate bottle of wine. He said it was because he wanted me to take it home as a gift.” Suddenly, Jack remembered. After getting the second bottle, he’d thought about giving it to Rachel. So glad he never did.

  “Oh, Jack.”

  “Thornton’s been drugging me. I know he has. And these other three students. I think Ralph’s death, technically, may have been natural causes, like the autopsy said, but I think it was triggered by the dreams he was having. And the kid who jumped? I bet if we dig a little bit, talk to some of his friends, we’d find he was struggling with crazy dreams, too.”

  The thing that really angered Jack, now that he thought about it was that Thornton knew this, too. But it didn’t stop him from drugging Jack two more times.”

  “Jack, what are we gonna do?”

  “We’ve got to go to the police.” He rubbed his temples, trying to ease the headache forming there.

  Rachel took his hand. “Then let’s go do it. Let’s go now. What can they say? We’ve got the proof right here.”

  Jack hesitated for a moment. The rage he felt for Thornton sat atop years of deep admiration and respect. This next step meant the end of their relationship. It would change everything, forever.

  40

  This unsavory business with Dr. Jameison had ruffled Thornton more than he realized. After Jack had left his office, on the way down the steps toward his car, Thornton had broken into a cold sweat, his heart started to palpitate. It was then he gave up any notions of trying to teach his afternoon classes. He decided to go to his lakeside cabin instead. He had already taken the day off. His cabin had been such a refuge in the past. He counted on its calming effects taking hold of him again. After stopping off at the bank, he’d driven home and packed some things in an overnight bag.

  The dirt road leading to the cabin was hard-packed and frozen, rattling Thornton’s jaw with every bump. Thornton hardly noticed. Driving along, his mind’s eye was riveted to the interior of the cottage and how much better he’d feel once the fireplace was lit. On the passenger seat laid a stack of research files, the beginnings of a new book he’d been meaning to start for some time.

  He pulled the steering wheel hard to the right, narrowly missing a pine tree, as the rear end fishtailed across the road. Around one more curve, and there she stood, in a clearing about one hundred yards away. He had bought it several years ago from the proceeds of his one and only book on military aviation.

  It had originally been built as a fishing cabin, within plain sight of Lake Sampson. The thought of Thornton fishing was an absurd notion to anyone who knew him. The supply of fishing gear that had come with the place stood quietly in the storage closet rotting away. For Thornton, the cabin stood for two things: peace and quiet. And maybe now a third: a great place to write.

  That’s what he needed—a diversion. Something to fill the vacant, haunting voids in his mind. Something to snuff out the recurring images of Riesner and Markum’s deaths. Something to keep the Jameison affair at bay. He had come so close to losing it all. But it was time to put all that behind him. What better way to start a new chapter in life than to start Chapter One of a new book?

  At least he still had his job. His reputation was intact. Becoming Dean of History was at least a possibility someday.

  Thanksgiving break was just a month away, not long after that would come Christmas. For someone with no family, both were great seasons for writing. He stepped onto the creaking wooden porch and unlocked the door, glad to be thinking of the future again.

  See, he thought, the cabin was already doing its trick.

  # # #

  On the campus of Culpepper University, Nigel Avery wandered about the Murray Building. After receiving the go-ahead from Jamieson, Avery had gone to the school in search of his prey, only to find Thornton had called in sick. He had driven to Thornton’s residence, but Thornton wasn’t there, either. He drove back to the school to see if he’d stopped in here.

  He knew Thornton wasn’t really sick, not in the physical sense. And he knew Thornton would be a wreck about now. He was probably looking for somewhere to unwind, regain his composure. That’s what Avery would do if he were a cowardly drivel like Thornton.

  He located Thornton’s main classroom and put his ear to the closed door. Total quiet. Opening the door slightly, he peeked in. Empty. He walked to the desk at the head of the class, slid open a few drawers, quickly deciding this wasn’t Thornton’s official desk. Noticing the door in the corner, he edged his way toward it. Again, an ear to the door. Not a sound. Slowly, he opened it and looked in. Also empty. Once inside, he locked both doors and slipped into Thornton’s chair.

  “Desk just like your stinking house,” he mumbled. He stared at the stacks of papers and folders. Who could work like this? At first, he lifted the papers carefully trying not to disturb anything. Then he shoved them aside. What difference did it make?

  Thornton wouldn’t be coming back here.

  “Let’s see what we got.” He noticed on the corner of his desk, an old fashioned Rolodex. “Who uses these anymore?” He lifted the lid and began thumbing through the cards, hoping something would click. He bypassed any cards that had people’s names. “There we go.” Under the letter C, the word, Cabin, and a phone number. No address. Nothing else. Could be anybody’s cabin, but Avery had a hunch.

  He wrote the number on a post-it note. That’s when he noticed the first three numbers were a local exchange, the same exchange for at least one of the student numbers he’d been monitoring. The cabin couldn’t be too far away. He put the note in his top shirt pocket and silently slipped out into the hallway, mingling with the student traffic walking by.

  He made his way down the steps. Found a nice shady tree and pulled out his smart phone. After selecting the White Pages, he hit the reverse phone option, keyed in the cabin’s phone number and a few seconds later had an address. Then he checked local property records to see if Thornton owned this cabin.

  It was all going so smooth. Must be Thornton’s time.

  # # #

  An hour later, Avery had Thornton’s little hideaway by Lake Sampson all mapped out. Everything checked. All that remained was to stop at his motel room for a quick change, check on his other wiretaps, then run a little errand in his rental car.

  Avery was certain Thornton was at that cabin. He could almost feel him there.

  41

  Jack and Rachel drove toward the Culpepper Police Station.

  “What are on these other pages?” Rachel asked, thumbing through the stack of files Jack had handed her.

  “I’m not sure. I didn’t look at them yet. Why don’t you read a few?”

  She pulled one out. “This one is about Jameison. Looks like he’s some kind of doctor, a neurologist.”

  “What’s it say?”

  Rachel read the page, line by line:

  Dr. Curtis Jameison

  Neurologist, Researcher at The Sleep Center

  5300 Turnbay Rd.

  Falls Church, Virginia

  “Then there’s the phone number. Below that it says his home address is in McLean, Virginia. Then it says:

  Former student.
>
  Class of ‘95

  Switched to pre-med

  Student ID at Culpepper: 342030-01

  She stopped reading.

  “Is that all there is?” he asked.

  “On this page.”

  “So he’s a former student of Thornton’s. I wonder what the connection to the drug is.”

  “It doesn’t say. Maybe the professor is getting paid some enormous amount of money.”

  “Could be,” Jack said. “But he doesn’t strike me as a man driven by greed. Listen to me, like I know him. What else is there?”

  “Let’s see…here’s a handwritten note….”

  Jameison plans to market this to the military, once he’s certain the drug is safe. He seems to think it still is. He’s certain they’ll pay millions for it, says it will eventually become the number one method for military training, replacing the billions spent on hi-tech equipment and computer simulation. So much cheaper and more efficient to do all this in the ‘safety’ of their dreams, he says.

  “You hear that? In their dreams?” There could be no doubt now. “That line about this doctor thinking it still is safe. Thornton must’ve written this recently, after Ralph’s death.”

  “I think you’re right.” Rachel’s face was anything but enthusiastic.

  Jack involuntarily slowed the car. “So he’s planning to sell this to the military. Why not? I can definitely see how effective it would be. If they could get the bugs worked out.”

  “But Jack, two students have died.”

  “I know, but I’m not sure they would have if they knew what was happening. If they were told what to expect, and could plan for it.” Jack thought a minute. “Even my symptoms, the dizziness and headaches. Could have just been generated by fear.”

  They didn’t say anything for a few blocks. Then Rachel said, “Are you sure Thornton doesn’t know you know?”