“Can you give me a number I can reach him? This is kind of an emergency.”
“If you’re having an emergency, sir, you should hang up and dial 911.”
“Well, it’s not that kind of an emergency.”
“Officer Hank Jensen is still here. He works closely with Sergeant Boyd. I can let you speak to him.”
“Thank you,” Jack said before she put him on hold. “Can I talk with him?”
# # #
A few moments later. “Hank Jensen here, can I help you?”
“Hi. This is Jack Turner. I was in to see you a little before lunch with my friend Rachel, about Ralph Riesner’s death.”
“I remember you,” Hank said.
“Do you remember what I told Sergeant Boyd?”
“You mean about the death not being natural causes? I was listening. You’ve gotta understand, we’ve been through a lot around here the last couple a weeks.”
“Well,” Jack said, “I realized after I left, I didn’t give you guys too much to go on. But now that’s changed.”
“How do you mean?”
“I’m sitting here looking at documents that prove what I was saying. Beyond a shadow of doubt.”
“Hold on, now,” Hank said. “You’re getting a little ahead of me. Tell me a little more of your story.”
“I told Sgt. Boyd that I believed—no, that I know—that Riesner’s death was not from natural causes, not exactly. Riesner, the young man who committed suicide on Saturday, me and one other student were being drugged by a history professor at Culpepper. His name is Thornton.”
“Drugged? Okay, I remember now.”
“Just hear me out,” Jack said. “I don’t mean drugged as in meth or heroin. This is an experimental drug. It affects people’s dreams. It made our dreams seem like real life. I know that sounds absurd, but I was drugged three times. Ralph Riesner died the same night he was given his first dose. I know the coroner said he died of heart failure. But I’m telling you, the heart failure was caused by this experimental drug.”
“A drug that makes dreams seem like real life?” Hank said. “I’ve never heard of anything like that.”
“Nobody has. Some neurologist named Dr. Jameison invented it. I’m not sure what the connection is yet, but for some reason he’s been testing it covertly, using us as human guinea pigs.”
“You’ve gotta know how ridiculous this sounds.”
It did to Jack, too. “I know, but I’m looking at documents—not the ones I gave to Sgt. Boyd earlier. New documents—ones that prove everything I’m saying is true.”
“How ‘bout you bring what you got over right now?” Hank asked. “If you convince me—I’ll call Sgt. Boyd at home. Otherwise….”
“I can’t bring it over right now,” Jack said. How could he explain he was near Washington DC, with documents he’d only gotten by stealing?
“When can you get here?”
“Not for three or four hours, at least.”
“Three or four hours? I’ll be off duty way before then. This’ll just have to wait till the morning.”
“You don’t understand,” Jack said. “These people are dangerous. There is still another student—I can give you his name—Thornton has been drugging. For all we know he could be giving him another dose right now.”
50
Hank Jensen was perplexed. The strength of this guy’s appeal had convinced him something wrong might be going on. But Boyd would rain fire down on his head if he got involved in this again on nothing more than a phone call. Hank had worked so hard to get in Boyd’s good graces.
“I’ll tell you what,” Hank said, “I’ll come in first thing in the morning, say 8:00am. You be here with your evidence, and we’ll see what gives. That’s the best I can do for now.”
“Okay,” Jack said. “I’ll be there. And this will not be a repeat of my first visit. What I have will blow you away. I think Sergeant Boyd would want to be there tomorrow. You guys may even need to get the FBI involved.”
Hank rolled his eyes. This was almost too bizarre to take seriously. “I’ll think about it,” he said. “See you at 8:00.”
“I’ll be there,” Jack said.
# # #
Jameison was about to order his favorite dish at Amoo’s House of Kabob, a fine restaurant in McLean featuring the best of Persian cuisine, when an app on his smart phone chimed. Curious, he took it out and looked. Hmmm. It was a brand-new security app that tied to a hidden camera in his office.
He had been planning on investing in a comprehensive security system after he’d finished getting all the results from Thornton’s tests. Before submitting his proposal to the military. A security salesman had come by a few weeks ago tempting him to try out their system. He’d even offered to install a single camera, free for thirty days, to show Jameison how easy it was to use. He could check on any of the installed cameras from his smart phone. The cameras didn’t have to run all the time; they had built-in motion detectors.
Jameison clicked on the app and saw that it had been activated almost thirty minutes ago. The chime he had just heard must have gone off then, but he missed it. He was even more curious now, because the office was closed. He’d locked the front door himself.
Tapping on the app, he found his way to the button that played back a copy of a video taken inside his office. His eyes almost popped out of his head, as he watched a young man with longish hair walking in. The picture wasn’t as clear as it could be, since Jameison had only left the desk lamp on, and the intruder hadn’t turned on the lights.
The man sat in his chair and quickly found his keys in the back of the center drawer. A few moments later, he was rummaging through all the drawers in both the desk and credenza. What was he looking for? Jameison didn’t keep any drugs in his office. No money or valuables, either.
After looking through the drawers, the man leaned back on Jameison’s chair. His face became more visible in the light. He looked very familiar. Jameison could also tell by looking at his clothes: this was no drug addict.
Who was he?
The man now set his attention on Jameison’s laptop. He should have never left it there. As the man reached for the laptop, Jameison realized who he was. It was Turner, one of Thornton’s four guinea pigs. The oldest one. The guy who was teaching one of Thornton’s classes. What was he doing here, in Jameison’s office?
This wasn’t good.
The next thing Jameison saw was even worse. Turner pulled his jump drive out of Jameison’s laptop, looked at it then put it in his pocket. A few moments later, he hurried out the door. Jameison remembered…all his files for the project were on that jump drive.
He stood and hurried out of the restaurant. Once inside his car, he called Nigel Avery.
Avery picked up after the second ring. “What’s up, Doc?”
“Avery listen. This is serious. I just watched a video of that guy Turner breaking into my office.”
“You mean one of the guys the professor was drugging? That Turner?”
“Yes, that Turner. He must’ve figured everything out.”
“He’s there in DC?”
“That’s what I’m telling you. But that’s not the worst of it.”
“How did he break into your office?”
“I have no idea, but will you listen to me? The point is, he did. And he stole a jump drive from my laptop. All my files on this project are on that jump drive.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Avery said. “You put all your files about this dream thing on a jump drive? And you leave that jump drive in your laptop out in the open where anybody can see it? Or steal it?”
“It was a stupid thing to do, but we’ve never had a security issue before. I was looking into getting a better system. Look, I don’t want to get into that now. We’ve got a big problem.”
“Any of those files say anything about me?” Avery said. “About you and me?”
“No.”
“Then you’ve got a big problem, Doc.
Nothing I’ve done back here ties back to me. I don’t work that sloppy.”
“Avery, I will pay you twice what I’ve already paid you to take care of this. You’ve got to find this guy Turner and take care of this. I need to get that jump drive before he takes it to the police.”
“If I’m taking care of him, I’m also gonna have to take care of that girl he’s seeing, that pretty brunette. I told you they’re in love. My guess is, he knows anything, he’s talked about it with her.”
“Then do it. Get rid of them both. And get me that jump drive back.”
51
Jack drove his rental car back to the Reagan National Airport lot, turned it in, and caught the first direct flight back to Atlanta. He had told Rachel he’d meet her tomorrow in Charlotte, and join her as they explained everything to her dad.
But now he had this meeting scheduled with the police first thing in the morning. He tried calling Rachel but couldn’t reach her before getting on the plane. He left her this message:
“Rachel, I’m guessing you’re driving to your parents’ house now. I know you don’t like to drive and talk on the phone, so you may not hear this till you get there. I’ll explain the details when I see you, but I’ve got the proof we need from Jameison’s office. I grabbed a jump drive from his laptop. It’s all there. Solid evidence that backs up everything we told the police. A little change in plans. They want me to meet them first thing tomorrow morning, so I’m flying back to Atlanta, not Charlotte. Call me when you can. Feel free to tell your dad anything you want. We got the proof now. Well…bye.”
He’d almost wanted to say I love you there at the end. That’s really how he felt, but it was way too soon. He didn’t want to do anything to chase her away.
He laughed as soon as he thought this, considering all the craziness he had already subjected her to in their brief time together.
# # #
Nigel Avery’s eyes locked hard onto the corridor leading to Rachel’s apartment. She had to come home sometime, he thought. He hated having to wait around all this time with killing on his mind.
He’d thought it all through on the drive over from the motel, after his call from Jameison. Do the girl first. Even with a direct flight, Jack wouldn’t land in Atlanta till 8:30pm, at the earliest. Then he had to drive here. So, he’d take care of Rachel. A simple burglary would do, an act of random violence not connectable to any of the other deaths in this case. About an hour ago, he had put on one of his everyday-man disguises and went shopping for a new weapon in the streets. He decided to drive to the nearest big town, to avoid any chance of someone remembering him.
Now, he waited.
He knew Rachel wasn’t out on a date with her beloved Jack. Avery had learned Rachel’s only job was working part-time at the school during the day. So, where was she?
# # #
“There,” said Nigel Avery. “Finally.”
He’d been sitting there for almost an hour-and-a-half.
Walking along the corridor of the apartment building, he saw a young woman turn down a breezeway toward her apartment. His eyes latched onto a yellow light shining just above and to the right of her doorway. The woman walked right under the light and stopped at the front door. Even though he was still some distance away, he knew what Rachel looked like. He’d taken photos of everyone involved in the case, some extras of her.
He scanned the surroundings, making sure no one would see him get out of the car. The coast was clear. He turned off the overhead lights then opened the car door. He closed it gently, without letting it latch. In and out, he reminded himself. No time for monkeying around. That’s how he’d kept clean all these years.
In seconds, he was standing outside her front door. He had seen no one else along the way. He thought about just kicking it in, but why make all that noise so late at night? He picked the lock in under a minute.
As he opened the door, a shapely body, silhouetted by a light from the bedroom, stood in the hallway straight ahead. She stiffened at the sound of the door. She had no chance to turn around. Avery’s shot was straight and sure—right through the head. She thumped against a linen closet door and sank to the floor.
He had decided to use a silencer, so the noise was slight. Still, it startled a cat lying on the dining room table. He turned as it ran past him and out the door. A hideous sight. Its face looked all chewed up. Avery hurried into the living room and kicked over a few small pieces of furniture. He yanked free a high-end DVD player lying on a rack full of electronics below a big screen TV, then headed out the door.
As he opened his van, he thought about how this would play out on the next day’s news. Imagine someone ending the life of this beautiful young woman for a measly DVD player? He tossed it in the back seat. Tomorrow it would be in a convenience store dumpster, one town over. That was a refreshing thought. Just one more night in this two-bit town, and he was free.
Now it was time for the final task on this cleanup mission. He was about to head over to Jack’s apartment, when he got an idea. There was a pretty good chance when Jack got back into town, he’d want to see Rachel. An even better chance that he’d drive over here, once he tried but couldn’t get her to answer her phone.
Why chase the mouse? Why not just wait for the mouse to come to him?
52
Jack landed in Atlanta and made it out to his car by 9:30. The wind had picked up. Jack wished he had brought a hat and gloves. He tried calling Rachel’s phone again, but still got voicemail. She couldn’t still be driving to her parents, so where was she? Maybe her car had broken down on the way. But if that happened, she should still be answering her phone.
He decided to call Rachel’s parents. Maybe she was there and in all the excitement forgot to turn the volume back on. Unfortunately, he got their voicemails, too. Now he wouldn’t know if she was all right, and he’d have to drive back to Culpepper not knowing.
The beep.
“General Cook, this is Jack Turner. I was hoping to talk with Rachel. I left her a voicemail message, but she’s not answering her phone. If she’s there, please tell her that I decided to fly back to Atlanta instead of Charlotte and that everything…worked out okay. I just thought I’d call and make sure she got in all right. I’ll probably see you tomorrow. I’ve got an appointment first thing with the police, then I plan to head up your way. Good bye.”
Jack turned his car on. Hopefully, Rachel was there and someone, either she or them would call him back soon.
# # #
Fifteen minutes later, General and Mrs. Cook stepped into the heated vestibule of their 18th century home. They were carrying the spoils of a long evening out spent eating dinner then shopping. After the coats, hats, and scarves were hung up to dry and the packages stacked temporarily on the sofa, and after the General had started a fire in the fireplace and his wife had set a tea kettle on the stove, he decided to check their phone messages.
He listened to them twice, three calls from Rachel and one from Jack. He took notes on the second pass. As he explained them to Anne, it became clear to him that something was definitely wrong. He could detect it in Rachel’s voice. It didn’t seem serious, more like puzzling. Twice she mentioned something about driving to their house to spend the night. And Jack’s message clearly indicated he expected her to be there already, and that he planned to come up here tomorrow…after meeting with the police.
“I should have made her take that house key,” Anna said. “She could have let herself in a few hours ago.”
“Now don’t get all worked up, Anne,” the General said. “I’m sure it’s nothing.” Still, he picked up the phone to call her. “Blasted voicemail,” he said. After the beep, “Hey Rachel, got your messages. Sorry we missed them. Your mom says we’ll get you that key so it doesn’t happen again. Looking at the clock, I’m guessing you’re not driving all this way tonight. You know we’d be happy to see you anytime. You and Jack. Just let us know when you expect to arrive tomorrow. Jack left a message, said something
about meeting with the police. Please call us back and let us know what’s going on. Love you. Dad.”
# # #
Jack finally arrived in Culpepper around 10:15pm and drove straight to his apartment. He drove by slowly, scanning for any signs of someone watching. His landlord’s house was dark; that was normal at this hour. He looked down the end of the driveway and noticed his screened-in porch was also dark, no lights on in his apartment, either. Everything looked just the way he’d left it.
He drove down one entire block, then back again, just to be sure. Didn’t see anyone sitting inside any parked cars along the road. He double-backed and pulled into his driveway, turned off his headlights to avoid waking his landlords.
He sat in the car a moment, resting his head on the steering wheel, physically and emotionally spent.
As he walked up the creaking steps, his mind was mercifully numb. Only his uncertainty about Rachel’s safety kept him from collapsing on his bed once inside. He took off his jacket and draped it over a kitchen chair, then walked into the bathroom to splash some water on his face.
He came back out and decided to try Rachel again. Walking into the living room, he sat on the sofa. That’s when he noticed he had a voicemail message. He didn’t even hear the phone ring.
“Rachel!” he said. It had to be her.
“Jack? It’s Rachel. Just calling to let you know there’s been a slight change in plans….”
Jack’s heart began to pound.
“…I know you wanted me to go straight to my parents, but I’ve been calling them for three hours now and there’s been no answer. I don’t have a key to their house, and I didn’t want to drive all that way if they’re not going to be home. I’ve got a few errands to run, and I’ll keep trying to reach Mom and Dad while I’m out. If I don’t get them, I may go over to the library, or maybe a coffee shop. Eventually, though, I’ll have to go home. Can’t wait to hear how your trip went. Hope everything’s okay. Can’t wait to see you. Bye.”
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