“Um… of course not…,” he stammered, “it’s just that…”
“Please let us do our job,” Fisher said.
Forsten took a deep breath and turned to leave.
“One more thing.”
He turned back to her.
“We want a copy of footage from all CCTV cameras on the freeway sent to the Milton P.D.”
“Yes, detective.”
Fisher watched Forsten walk away. He was holding his cell phone to his ear. She hated having to be so curt with him, but right now she had to do her due diligence.
She owed that to David Becker’s family.
Her phone buzzed in her pocket again. She shoved her hand inside and pressed a button to end the call.
She was in no mood to talk to anyone right now.
NINE
Callaway watched as Patti got in her Honda Civic and drove away. He went inside the house and found their daughter at the dining table.
Sabrina “Nina” Callaway was nine years old, but she acted far older than that. She had dark hair, like her mother’s, only hers reached all the way down her lower back. Her eyes were emerald green, like his, and she, like her mother, had a smile that could light up any day.
Even though she looked and behaved a lot like Patti, Callaway was not the least bit jealous. He was amazed that Patti had raised such a well-rounded kid. Obviously, she was a few years away from the dreaded teenage phase, but he had a feeling she would not rebel like other kids.
For one thing, Patti had given Nina a lot of freedom without giving up much control. At a very young age, she let Nina choose what clothes to wear, how to decorate her room, even what meals she wanted for her school lunch. She did this while teaching her how to be responsible.
Nina could choose any outfit as long as it was age appropriate. She could decorate her room as long as it was not vulgar in any way. She could help prepare her own school lunches as long as they also contained foods that were good for her.
Callaway had missed out on Nina’s early years because he was too busy looking for adventure. Up until now, he did not realize how foolish he was. The real adventure was sharing moments with his only child. The memories were all he would have when his time came to leave this earth.
“You okay, Daddy?” Nina asked, looking up from her bowl of cereal.
He made a face. “Why do you ask?”
“You looked like you were daydreaming.”
“No, I wasn’t.”
“Yeah, you were. Cindy does the same thing.”
“Who’s Cindy?”
“She’s in my school. I see her every day in the cafeteria. She’s always staring at the floor or the walls.”
“Is she okay?”
“She’s fine. The other kids thought she was odd, but I went up and talked to her. She’s actually very nice. She has an overactive imagination. She wants to be a writer one day. Next week she’ll let me read one of her stories.”
Callaway’s chest swelled with pride.
She will always be wiser than me, he thought.
Today Nina’s school was not in session due to a teacher conference, so Callaway had offered to watch her. Patti was skeptical at first, but he assured her he was up to the task. It would be the first time he had spent all day with her by himself. He never trusted himself to be her lone caregiver, even if it was only for a few hours. But now things were different. She was older, and he wanted to spend more time with her. Plus, this would show Patti that he was a changed man and that he was willing to do whatever was necessary to have his family back.
He grabbed another bowl and poured himself some cereal. He sat across from her at the dining table. He was reaching for the milk when she asked, “Daddy?”
“Yes, honey.”
“Can I go watch a movie with Jamie?”
Callaway froze, holding the milk in midair. “Um… what?”
“Jamie asked if I wanted to go see the new superhero movie with him.”
Jamie was in Nina’s class. Callaway had seen him talk to Nina, so he had taken it upon himself to drill the boy regarding his intentions toward his little girl. The encounter did not go over too well once Nina found out. She refused to speak to him, which was worse than getting his nose broken. His daughter’s opinion meant the world to him. He had somehow found a way to patch things up to her.
“What did your mom say?”
“I haven’t asked her yet. I thought I’d ask you first.”
She was smart enough to know her mom might say no. Callaway certainly was not ready to see his nine-year-old daughter go on her first date.
“How about this,” he said. “Why don’t I take you and Jamie to a baseball or basketball game?”
Nina looked down at her cereal. “I really wanted to see that movie.”
“At the games, you guys can have as much junk food as you like. But only if you don’t tell your mom.”
She looked up and smiled. She liked the sound of keeping secrets from her mother.
He dug into his bowl of cereal. “So, what do you want to do today?”
“Can we go to the zoo? I want to see the new baby pandas.”
“No problem. Zoo it is.”
She raised her hands in excitement. “Yay! We’re going to the zoo.”
He said, “Why don’t you finish your breakfast and go upstairs and get dressed?”
While Nina got ready, Callaway moved to the living room. He sat on the sofa and turned on the TV.
He flipped to the all-news channel.
His eyes widened in disbelief and his mouth dropped to his chin.
TEN
Fisher was still next to the Mercedes when a uniformed officer approached her. “There is someone who says he was with the jumper before he jumped.”
“Where is he?” she asked.
He pointed to a man behind the yellow police tape. Fisher approached him. He was dressed casually in a checkered shirt, jeans, runners, and he had on a baseball cap.
“I’m Detective Dana Fisher,” she said. “You told the officer you were with the man who jumped?”
He pointed to a red Pontiac a few feet behind the Mercedes. “I was. That’s my car.”
“What’s your name.”
“Andrew Neal.”
She took him away from the crowd that had gathered behind the tape. When they were a good distance away, she asked, “What happened here?”
“Well, I was driving to work…”
“What do you do?”
“I’m a network programmer.”
“Okay.”
“I came up to the overpass and I saw this Mercedes parked to the side. And then I saw a guy looking over the guardrail. The other cars were just driving past him like he wasn’t even there. I guess they were in a hurry to get to work. I’m only five minutes away from my company, so I thought I’d see what he was looking at. I parked and got out. I looked over the guardrail, thinking maybe there was an accident or something, but the traffic below was moving along like normal, you know? I then approached the guy to ask if he was okay. He told me to stay back.”
Fisher listened intently.
“I asked if he needed help. I think I asked about his car. I figured maybe something was wrong with it and that’s why he was by the side of the road. But the guy said he was fine. He kept looking over the guardrail.”
Neal paused and then said, “My cousin committed suicide when he was in his teens. He jumped in front of a truck. So, I had a bad feeling about the situation. I asked if he wanted me to call someone. He asked me to call his wife. I asked what her phone number was, but then he said, ‘Tell her I’m doing this for my family’. Before I could do anything, he put his right leg over the guardrail, heaved himself up, and he was gone. I then heard a loud noise from below. I looked over and there were cars running into each other. It looked like a scene from some movie. I quickly dialed 9-1-1 and told them what happened. Next thing I know an officer showed up and ordered me to stand behind the yellow tape. I told him the
Pontiac was mine, but he said he had to secure the scene. He then told me he’d get someone to talk to me.”
Fisher asked, “When the man was standing by the guardrail, what was his demeanor? I mean, was he calm? Angry? Sad?”
He pondered the question. “He looked calm to me. But…”
“But what?” Fisher asked eagerly.
“But I think he had been crying earlier.”
“Crying?”
“Yeah. His eyes were kind of red and puffy. I mean, it could have been allergies because it is allergy season and I get them really bad around this time, so I have to take these pills that…”
Fisher held up her hand. “Can you go down to the police station and provide a written statement?”
Neal shrugged. “I guess I can do that.”
“Today, please.”
“Yeah, I’ll talk to my boss and go down right away.”
“Thank you.”
Fisher turned back to the spot where Becker had jumped from.
What did you mean you were doing this for your family, Mr. Becker? she thought.
ELEVEN
Holt watched as officers diverted traffic away from the scene. Drivers stared in his direction as they drove by. Some paused and took a photo of the wrecked sedan with their cell phones. One driver mouthed a curse at Holt as he passed.
I wasn’t the one who jumped on the freeway, Holt wanted to say.
By all accounts, it looked like David Becker had committed suicide.
Holt did not judge those who did. They had their reasons to kill themselves. They were all suffering from some form of pain, be it financial, marital, or physical. Holt was even an advocate of euthanasia. He believed people had the right to end their lives in a manner of their own choosing.
Holt had lost his parents at a young age. It was his older sister, Marjorie, who had raised him. There were moments during those difficult years that he thought of killing himself. He was lost, angry, and confused. But he was too much of a coward to end his life by his own hand. He did not like the idea of swallowing pills. What if he survived but was left with a damaged brain or damaged vital organs? He would be useless to himself or his loved ones. The thought of jumping in front of a train or oncoming traffic scared him. What if he survived and was left with missing limbs?
In the end, Holt knew killing himself would have been a selfish act that would have left his sister all by herself. And, he would never have met his wife, Nancy, or had become a police detective.
Holt knew if he was in the eye of a storm, he should keep his head down and keep moving. Eventually, the storm would subside, giving way to clear skies and bright sunshine.
But, while he had empathy for people who committed suicide, his sympathy did not extend to how suicide affected others. In this case, David Becker’s decision to jump to the freeway in the middle of the morning rush hour was dangerous and could have led to major fatalities.
When Becker hit Aliza’s sedan, she could have plowed into another vehicle instead of driving into the barrier. Ronnie could have veered off his lane into another to try to miss Aliza, resulting in a different crash. It was a miracle no one else got seriously injured.
The city was gripped by this one event. The news would repeat every aspect of the story for several days until the next event that caught their attention. Holt could see why David Becker killed himself this way. He wanted his death to mean something, and to be remembered. Now all those people who were stuck in traffic because of his decision would have stories to tell their family, friends, co-workers, and neighbors.
It’s a shame David Becker is not alive to see the damage he could have caused on this beautiful morning, Holt thought.
TWELVE
Callaway gripped the steering wheel anxiously. He could not believe what he saw on the news.
How can this be? he thought.
He was on the interstate, going over the speed limit.
“Daddy?” Nina asked from the backseat.
“Yes, darling.”
“Where are we going?”
“We are going to the zoo.”
“This isn’t the way to the zoo.”
He looked at her reflection in the rear-view mirror. “How do you know? You’re not old enough to drive a car.”
“I searched for it online. The entire trip should take us twenty-eight minutes, depending on traffic,” Nina replied.
Dammit, why do I keep forgetting she’s not as dumb as me? he thought.
“You’re right, darling,” he said. “This isn’t the way to the zoo.”
She frowned. “Then where are we going?”
“We’re taking a detour.”
Her brow furrowed. “What’s a detour?”
“Um… it means we are taking another route.”
Her face brightened up. “Like a shortcut?”
“Well, not exactly.”
She frowned. “So, we’re not going to the zoo?”
“We will,” he said quickly. “But first, Daddy has to stop and check something.”
“What?”
He wished he could tell her, but even he was not sure what was going on. He felt like today was all a blur, and what had happened last night was not real.
He suddenly wanted to make sure last night was not a dream.
He saw an exit for a side street up ahead. He got off the interstate and parked the Charger by the side of the road.
He reached underneath the passenger seat and pulled out a plastic shopping bag that was rolled up and held tight with several elastic bands. He removed the bands and pulled out a gray envelope that felt thick and heavy. He opened the envelope and peeked inside.
He let out a sigh of relief.
It was no dream, he thought. It happened, and it was real.
Inside the envelope was a stack of hundred-dollar bills. After he had received the money, he had spent half an hour counting it just to be sure.
The amount came to twenty-thousand dollars.
He was so shocked, he did not want to leave the money in his office or his apartment. Now that he thought about it, though, he was foolish to leave such a windfall in the Charger. Better if he carried the money on his person.
But he worried about getting mugged, something which had happened to him twice in his life. Once was when he was a teenager. He was walking back from school when a boy jumped him. He brandished a knife, which, when Callaway thought about it now, was, in fact, a butter knife. But at the time, Callaway was terrified, and he handed over whatever money he had on him.
He later realized the boy was from his school. Callaway had told one of his friends he had received cash from his parents for his birthday. Callaway had planned to spend the gift on comic books. The friend must have told the boy, who decided to relieve Callaway of his birthday gift. Callaway never told on the boy, but whenever he saw him in school, he made sure to give him a stare that said, I know what you did, and I can get you in serious trouble.
The boy never bothered him again.
The second time he was mugged was when he was drunk out of his mind. He stumbled out of the bar and was walking down the street when a man approached him. The man held out something for Callaway. It was dark, so Callaway could not tell what the man was holding. It could have been a knife or a gun. Callaway did not want to take any chances. Without a word, he gave the man his wallet and walked away.
Sometimes he thought the man could have been asking for directions. The encounter was hazy, but he remembered the man saying the words “Kensington Boulevard,” which was only a few blocks from where he was.
As he stared at the envelope, he felt a knot in the pit of his stomach.
“Daddy?” Nina asked, snapping him out of his reverie.
“Yes, darling?”
“Is this the place you had to stop and check something?”
He blinked. Kids don’t forget anything, do they?
“No, sweetheart. This is not the place.”
He put the Charger in gear and dro
ve away.
THIRTEEN
Callaway frowned. The freeway was jammed. He could see cars lined up for a mile back.
What was I expecting? he thought. A clear road to the scene of the incident?
He looked around. He could not see another way to get to his destination, unless he went around by exiting the freeway, driving five miles, and then looping back. But with the freeway backed up, drivers were taking alternate routes, and the other freeways would be choked too.
It might take him an hour before he got to the scene. By then he might be too late.
He could not let that happen. He had to see this with his own eyes.
He pulled the Charger into the shoulder lane and parked. He was about to get out when Nina asked, “Where are you going, Daddy?”
He turned around and said, “I’ll be back in a minute, baby.”
She crossed her arms over her chest. “You’re not thinking of leaving me in the car alone, are you?”
“I’m only going to check to see how far we are from where we need to go.”
“You have to take me with you.”
“You’ll be fine. The traffic won’t be moving for some time.”
“I don’t want to be in the car by myself,” Nina said adamantly. “It’s not safe. What if there is a child-napper in one of those cars?”
Callaway blinked. He eyed the other cars and their drivers with suspicion.
“What if he snatches me and puts me in his car?” Nina asked. “How would you know which car I’m in when you get back? There are hundreds of cars.”
The girl has a point, he thought. But this time he had a comeback. “The child-napper would be like the rest of the drivers: stuck in traffic with no place to go. When I get back, I’ll have ample time to look for you.”
She scowled. “Do you want mom to know you left me unattended? And that I was kidnapped?”
He could not help a laugh. “I would never leave you, honey. Come on.”
He grabbed her hand and walked on the shoulder lane. They passed dozens of parked vehicles. Drivers glanced at them with confusion, and some even with envy. They knew they would be stuck for some time, but Callaway had found another way to keep moving.
The Missing Mistress Page 3
