The Killdeer Connection

by Tom Swyers

  He jogged to his gate, bypassing the moving sidewalk, weaving and dodging, leaving slowpokes in his wake. When he arrived, they were preboarding the plane with children and passengers who needed special assistance. A few people walked into the Jetway. Everyone else at the gate was glued to the television monitors overhead.

  David looked up at the closest one. CNN was airing a breaking-news report. Another train had exploded. They showed some raw footage shot from the cell phone of an eyewitness. It was a grainy view of billowing smoke and towering flames. Panicked people ran through the shaky screen. David’s heart sank. This time, the explosion was in Albany, New York. David recognized the landmarks he’d spotted in the wobbling footage—the explosion was downtown near the Helmsley Oil facility.

  David’s first concern was for his family. He yanked his cell from his pocket and turned it on to search for any word from Christy or Annie about meeting him at the airport. The screen on the phone went through its boot-up sequence, but it shut down before completion. The battery was virtually dead. He hadn’t gotten enough juice from the Spark to charge it. He anxiously searched for an outlet, but before he could find one, the gate agent announced that the group of seats in front of him was boarding.

  David thought he had some time to try and find an outlet. But every spot he saw was already tapped out with plugs. He thought he’d found an available one at the gate waiting area directly across the concourse. As he jogged over to it, the overhead television flashed some raw footage of emergency vehicles heading down Broadway to the fire. David thought he recognized the name on one of the ambulance trucks. It looked like Christy’s squad.

  He froze in place, wondering if his boy was on board. The footage played out, but David didn’t see any more images of the ambulance. He desperately wanted to reach out to Christy, to remind him of the dangers of the oil they called Bakken. He started back for the outlet but realized after a few steps that two teens had tapped into the open plug.

  The gate agent announced that his seat was boarding, followed by the final call for passengers heading to Albany. David had only one choice—run and catch the plane.

  He had always been there for Christy. It was one of the benefits of working from home. When his son had had a hard time with the transition to preschool, David had taken time off from work and sat in a rocking chair in an empty room next to the classroom. Christy would wander into the room and watch his father rock and read. Then they’d exchange smiles, and Christy would hurry back to the classroom. David had always been there when Christy had gotten on and off the bus from grade school to high school. They’d celebrate the good stuff and talk through the bad stuff in the afternoons. For the first time that he could remember, David felt powerless. Christy was on his own.

  And Annie had always been there for David. Annie had supported his venture into private practice when Christy was born. Now that choice could be causing her pain. Maybe it had even cost her life. He felt horrible, once again thinking that Annie deserved someone better. The thought was becoming a daily occurrence lately.

  David had a window seat. He was flying in a smaller regional jet with two seats on either side of the aisle. His spot turned up next to a large man sitting in the aisle seat.

  “Excuse me. I’ve got the window seat,” David said.

  “Sure,” said the young man, struggling to stand up. He was too large for the seat. It wasn’t that he was fat. He was born with a large frame, and it was a tight fit in economy class.

  David snuck by him to reach his seat. The traveler had a smell about him, like day-old beer and garlic. But David realized he probably had his own body odor. He took his parka off, only to discover he had sweated through his navy-blue pocket T-shirt.

  He felt around the sides of his seat for a place to charge his phone, but this plane did not have power outlets or USB ports. It was merely a two-and-a-half-hour flight to Albany, but it lasted forever.

  All David could think about was Annie and Christy. It had only been three days since he’d left for North Dakota, but this was the longest time he’d ever spent away from them. He prayed for their safety. It was impossible to imagine life without either of them. He resolved to turn his life around if he saw their smiling faces when he landed. He vowed to sacrifice his legal career for them, if that’s what it took. He’d talk to Annie and tell her he’d leave the law if that’s what she needed. All he wanted to do was to make them happy. Nothing else mattered. Period.

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  David had a clear view of the city’s downtown as his plane circled Albany International Airport waiting to land. His face was pressed against the portal glass. He kept bumping his head against the lip of its plastic frame as he moved from side to side, scouring the city for landmarks. This didn’t help his splitting headache that had reappeared during the flight, but he didn’t care. He was desperate to get a handle on what was going on below.

  Thick, billowing, black smoke engulfed the Mansion District and the city’s South End in a cloud, obscuring any view of the streets beneath. It was where Ben Prior lived and Annie worked at Corning Elementary School. The cloud, like a gigantic head of black cauliflower, continued to inflate and drift over the Hudson River toward the City of Rensselaer. At its base, orange flames jerked wildly, like fingers on a hand convulsing. David imagined that’s what Ben Prior’s hands must have looked like when they had been set ablaze.

  David felt nauseated and helpless watching the events play out below. If there were a thousand ways to say the same prayer, David recited every single one of them in rapid succession, his lips quivering as he mouthed the words in silence.

  The airplane took a sharp turn away, and the entire catastrophe below disappeared from David’s view. Now all he could see out of his window was a clear, blue sky and some puffy white clouds. On the other side of the aisle, David could see Indigo Valley directly below as the plane completed its turn. He searched in vain for his house, hoping he might spot a car in the driveway—a sign that someone was safe at home. But he was too far away to get a good view. The plane leveled out, and David could hear the landing gear drop as it made its final approach.

  When David got off the Jetway at the gate, he ran down the concourse toward the security exit where family members and friends waited to greet their loved ones. His heart was pumping, and he was out of breath as he looked for Annie and Christy. His plane had been fifteen minutes late, so he figured if they were coming, they’d be there waiting. But they were nowhere to be found.

  In the middle of the reception area, David released his suitcase and bent over to put his hands on his knees. He was spent, and adrenalin drained from his body. He couldn’t accept that they weren’t there and that he might never see them again. He looked at the floor while some passengers did a double take after passing him, wondering what was wrong.

  This can’t be. It just can’t.

  Then David felt someone tap him on the shoulder from behind. He stood up and turned to see the most precious smile he had ever laid eyes on.

  “Surprise,” Annie said.

  It was her, the love of his life. David was speechless as he embraced Annie around her arms and rocked her back and forth with his eyes closed, fighting back the tears. He wasn’t going to let her go, ever. He pulled back and gave her a big kiss on the lips.

  “I’m so glad you’re here, safe,” David said. “I was worried sick about you.”

  “Didn’t you get my text that I’d be here?” Annie asked.

  “No, my cell’s battery ran out of juice. Where’s Christy?” David asked.

  “He couldn’t find someone to replace him, so he’s on the ambulance.”

  “Oh, no. Is he okay?”

  “Why wouldn’t he be?”

  “You don’t know, do you?”

  “Know what?”

  “There was an oil-train explosion in Albany a few hours ago.”

  “What? Oh, my God. I’ve been too busy to watch the news today. I’ve got to text him to make sure he’s
all right.”

  “Good idea.”

  Annie’s hands were shaking as she pulled out her cell from her purse and began thumbing a message.

  David leaned down to pick up his suitcase handle when he saw the feet of a bunch of people walking toward him, surrounding him and Annie.

  “FBI! David Thompson!” a male voice boomed. “Stand up slowly. Keep your hands where we can see them. You’re under arrest.”

  David couldn’t believe what was happening. Annie’s jaw dropped at the same time she dropped her cell on the floor.

  “Step away, ma’am,” the voice said. But Annie just froze. She and David slowly looked around them. They were surrounded by six FBI agents either wearing a body armor or jackets that said FBI. Their guns were drawn. Julius Moore was one of them. There was an outer circle of agents with their backs to David, keeping bystanders away.

  “Please step away, ma’am,” the same voice said. David saw the source now. It wasn’t Moore but a tall man in his midthirties, medium build, with milky-white skin and dirty-blond hair.

  “What’s going on?” Annie demanded.

  “Pick up your cell, and step away, ma’am,” the lead agent said again. “You’re not involved in this.”

  “The hell I’m not. He’s my husband. What’s this all about?”

  “Annie,” David said, “please just do as he says. We can’t afford to have both of us in trouble.”

  “Ma’am,” a woman agent said. “Please come over and stand by me.” Annie picked up her phone and stepped to her side and turned toward David. Tears were streaming down her face.

  “Now Mr. Thompson, put your hands behind your back,” the lead agent said.

  David did as he was told. He tried to put on a brave face for Annie. But he was absolutely terrified about what this meant for him and his family.

  Another agent moved in to cuff him from behind. She read him his Miranda rights.

  “What’s the charge?” David asked the lead agent.

  “Title eighteen of the US Code, Section one-zero-zero-one, for starters,” he said.

  “What’s that?”

  “It’s against the law to intentionally make false statements to a FBI agent. Agent Moore heard you say that you had no knowledge of the Killdeer Society. But you gave a spreadsheet of Killdeer Society sightings to Chief Barber in Valley City.”

  “That’s ridiculous. I had no knowledge of the Killdeer Society when I spoke to Moore. It was afterward that I discovered more about it.”

  “Then there’s the matter of a terrorism charge,” the lead agent said while patting David down.

  David looked at Moore. He was holstering his gun. When he looked up at David, he wore a blank expression. When their eyes met, he looked away.

  “Hey, Julius, is your granddaughter okay?”

  Moore made a painful grimace, closed his eyes, then nodded. “We evacuated the school.”

  “Good. You remember you said if my car broke down in your neighborhood that you’d help?”

  Moore looked at the other agents, who had stood down and were now doing crowd control. “Yes,” he said.

  “Well, it’s not my car. It’s my son who might be in the South End. Can you check on him?”

  Moore approached David and stood directly in front of him. “What’s he doing in my neighborhood on a school day?”

  “He’s got the day off—teacher-conference day. He’s an ambulance volunteer, a first responder.”

  Moore and the lead agent exchanged puzzled looks.

  “You think he’s down there?” Moore asked.

  “Yes. In Minneapolis, I saw his squad’s ambulance on TV at the scene.”

  “My God, David!” Annie said. “You saw his squad there? I’ve got to get ahold of him.” She started furiously tapping his phone number now.

  All of a sudden, Moore and the lead agent slowed in their movements, like they had downshifted from fourth to first gear. David had planted a seed of doubt that took the spring out of their steps. They now had to wrestle with the idea that if David were part of a terror plot, he had put his son in harm’s way. That thought seemed to be a tough pill to swallow.

  The seed of doubt was a trick that Richard Pottenger had taught him at Baxter & Chadwick, one of the few useful things David had learned from that sorry sad-sack of a man. He used to say that a man likes to come to his own conclusions. So don’t spoon-feed him yours; let him chew on some facts that undermine his, and look for him to come around to your way of thinking on his own. Otherwise, he’ll feel the need to respond and argue, and he’ll be less apt to agree with you because he’ll have to admit that he was wrong.

  “Will you find him, Julius?” David asked.

  Moore looked at the lead agent, who shrugged. Then he looked back at David. “I’ll put the word out. We’ll find him.”

  “He’s not picking up, David,” Annie said, turning to the agents. “Where are you taking him?”

  “County correctional facility,” the lead agent said.

  “Annie,” David said, “please call Jim Fletcher, and tell him what’s happened. He’ll know what to do. Tell him I’ll try and call him tonight if they’ll let me.”

  Annie nodded as she wiped tears away from her eyes. She looked like she was in shock. She was losing her husband and might have lost her only child. A few seconds ago, she had a family. Now she was all alone.

  Agents surrounded David as he walked under their escort through the terminal with his hands cuffed behind his back. One agent took David’s suitcase. As he walked away, David kept looking at Annie over his shoulder for as long as he could. She was standing beside the woman FBI agent, talking with her as she glanced at David every other second. She stood on her toes to find him in the crowd. When he got farther away, she stood on a chair so she wouldn’t lose sight of him.

  People in the terminal looked at David with scowls of disapproval. In their eyes, he was guilty of something awful. After all, he was in a parade of FBI agents.

  “What did he do?” one young man shouted as he snapped cell-phone pictures. The agents ignored him, intent on exiting the airport as quickly as possible. The young man drifted away, no doubt to upload his photos to his social-media accounts, David thought.

  Flashes from cell phones went off as other people started snapping pictures, too. One guy recorded a video with his cell. David thought about asking the agents to pull his parka hood over his head to hide his face, but it seemed pointless. He realized he would be all over the news in a few hours, no matter what he did. Two teenage girls giggled as they tried to take selfies of themselves with David in the background to show everyone that they were there when the big arrest was made.

  David’s mind was a swirling mess. His thoughts vacillated among Christy, Annie, and his future. He felt ashamed to be arrested, even though he knew he wasn’t guilty of anything. With each step he took, he realized that life as he knew it had changed forever. It didn’t matter whether he did time or was exonerated. Either way, he was going to be branded as a criminal for the rest of his life.

  Some people applauded and others gasped as the FBI entourage marched David through the glass doors to the outside of the terminal. David was grateful they didn’t have anything to throw at him. But then he realized they could throw the book at him if they or the likes of them were to serve as jurors in his case.

  The agents strutted to the curb and ushered David into the back seat of a waiting black Chevy Suburban.

  TWENTY-NINE

  The county jail was a two-minute drive from the airport and a five-minute drive from Indigo Valley. David had grown up with the jail in his backyard. If his family went to the airport, they passed it. When an inmate escaped, they’d lock their doors and stay inside until he was captured.

  The jail was set back from a main road behind an open field, nestled in the woods but visible through a clearing. David remembered it as a castle surrounded by high, shiny, galvanized fence topped off with even-shinier razor wire looped in a large coi
l. When the Suburban approached, the image matched his memory except for the addition of some modern buildings and wings. It had always been a foreboding place in his mind; now it was about to be his home.

  The sirens were screaming as the FBI driver turned into the jail entrance. David could see a twenty-foot-high fence topped with razor wire directly in front as they approached. The Suburban didn’t have to slow down. The entire fence opened like a sliding door, as if David were expected. There was not one officer at the gate or anywhere in sight. It was as if the door opened and closed behind them by magic.

  The agents hurried David into the booking entrance. On average, twenty inmates a day were processed into the jail, but it was a weekday during working hours, so the holding cells were empty. He’d caught the express lane into the joint. Moore and the other agents handed David off to the booking deputy. Then, they stepped into an office to tackle the mound of paperwork associated with housing a federal prisoner in a county facility.

  The booking deputy was a middle-aged woman, taller and heavier than David. She wore her graying black hair shellacked in a bouffant, probably the same hairstyle her mother had worn in the 1960s. Her dark-blue uniform spoke business, but her face was softer, with a light coat of makeup and a touch of blush on her cheeks. David followed her perfume down the hallway, making sure to follow the blue line on the floor, just as he had been told. Two prison guards followed directly behind him, just in case he made trouble.

  “If you wander from the blue line, you’ll regret it,” she said, looking back at him. “Welcome to Albany County Correctional. I hope your stay will be a pleasant one. But that’s entirely up to you.”

  He followed her into a windowless cinder block office painted in institutional beige. A few papers clung to the walls with yellowing tape, but nothing else decorated the space. One of the guards uncuffed him. He was told to take a seat on a canary-yellow plastic chair facing the booking deputy’s desk. It was a color he would learn to hate. The two deputies waited outside, out of earshot but in full view.