by C. M. Newman
CHAPTER SEVEN: FLIGHT
Vince dreaded the next morning at work not because he was afraid his emotional turmoil may have robbed him of too much mental and physical stamina to make it until five o’clock, but because of the looks. The looks he knew he’d be getting all day. No matter how many more days he spent at work, he knew none of those days would even approach normal. Such was the danger of getting close to people, he supposed.
Physically, he turned out to be holding up better than yesterday. Mentally, he wasn’t so sure yet.
Sophie knocked on his door not long after he had sat down, Vince having initially evaded the eyes of his coworkers. “Good morning, sir,” she said quietly, gauging his demeanor before she went on with some news she obviously had to share. She rarely stopped by his office for small talk—that was all Angela and Harry.
“Morning, Sophie,” he said back, being friendly enough.
“Fitz said some of us are going to Boston to back up another team. Half their team is elsewhere so they just need some help. Hanson said she couldn’t get us out of it because no other teams are available to help. She tried.”
“Okay…” Vince wondered why no one had run this by him first, but he supposed he couldn’t fault Harry for beating him to the office.
“Now I brought it by everyone else already because you weren’t in yet, and we all thought maybe you could take the custodial interview in Louisiana instead of me and Marshall. Maybe we could work the case instead, or one of us could go with you. Obviously, it’s up to you. Just an idea.”
A half grin formed on Vince’s face, not wide enough to pop a dimple. “Am I that bad?”
Sophie shook her head in haste. “We know you can do it. There’s no doubt about that. But you shouldn’t have to. And you should get as much rest as you can. You know how draining a case can be even when you’re in perfect health. I’m—I’m sorry, sir. You’re a grown man. I’m being annoying.”
“It’s okay,” Vince said calmly, though the coddling did bruise his ego a bit. He supposed he’d have to grow a tolerance to that. He had six to eight months of it to go. “I understand. That’s…probably a good idea. Even if I weren’t tired, I’d be distracted.”
“Well, then, I’ll put word out and see if anyone wants to go with you. And I have the file for the custodial. Erica Whittaker. I honestly haven’t even had time to get through her file yet, so you’re just as well off as I would be.”
“How long does she have?”
“Two days. Her execution date is Saturday,” Sophie replied, handing Vince the file. “Do you still want to come to the briefing for the case?”
“I’d better study up for the custodial,” Vince said, shaking his head. “Tell Harry he’s heading this one up and go ahead and brief without me.”
“Okay. I’ll take care of changing the flight reservations. Flight leaves at eleven, I think.”
Vince started to read up on Erica Whittaker, a thirty-nine-year-old who had spent the last twelve years of her life on death row. She had been convicted of the murders of three men over the course of only a year. Vince had one chance to understand just why, before the killer, their learning tool, met her end. After his initial perusal of the file, he dialed Jenna.
“Hi. Everything okay?” she answered.
“Yeah. I have to leave town for work today, though. Not a case, just an interview with a death row inmate in Louisiana.” Angela appeared at Vince’s door, eyes opened wide in inquiry. He gestured to have her sit, letting her know the conversation wasn’t too private. “I’m not sure when I’ll be back. Might be late tonight, might be tomorrow.”
“Sounds important,” Jenna said without sincerity. Vince knew the tone well. Making him feel guilty was a skill she’d learned from her sister.
“It is. This is our last chance to understand why this woman did what she did before she’s gone forever. That’s the idea behind these interviews.” He couldn’t tell whether Jenna was irritated, which irritated him in turn.
“I understand. Why don’t we just plan on Charlie staying with me tonight? It’s not a big deal.”
“To be honest, it sounds like it is. But it’s…it’s fine. I’ll come pick him up in the morning and bring him to school if I’m home in time for that. I’ll keep you posted,” he said, closing his eyes and leaning back, scratching his neck.
“All right. I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”
Vince rubbed his forehead with his fingers after hanging up. “Sorry about that,” he said to Angela, who was trying to look like she’d been thinking about something else instead of listening in.
“It’s okay,” she said.
“What’s up?”
“Sophie said you’re going to do the custodial alone but might want company.”
Vince shrugged. “There’s a case. It’s better if the team isn’t more shorthanded than it already is.”
“Boston’s police force is huge. Fitz said they only requested a couple of agents anyway. Sophie’s going to stay behind with our backlog of files and work remotely. I really wouldn’t mind going with you.”
Vince had an argument, but he sensed that Angela was waiting for an invitation—didn’t want to question his authority any further, but truly wanted to come, for whatever reason. “Would you like to come?”
“I don’t think you should go alone.”
“Answer my question.”
Angela had to think back to what Vince’s question had been precisely. “Yes, I’d like to come.”
“Then get your bag. I’m about to head to the airport.”
When Vince got a copy of their flight itinerary and found that they wouldn’t be returning until the next morning, he called Jenna to inform her.
“You’re quiet,” Angela said without thinking as they took seats at their gate. “Never mind. You have a right to be.”
“You’re right. I am quiet. I don’t really have the right to be, though. I still need to function. It’s not fair to everyone else if I close up.”
“Doesn’t mean you need to make small talk. You’ve never been very into chitchat before. Why change now?”
Vince shrugged minutely. “Can I ask you something?” he said, feeding Angela’s need to talk in some sort of capacity and his own need to understand the effects of yesterday’s revelation.
“Of course.”
“How was everyone yesterday after I left?”
“You mean emotionally or functionally?”
“Both.”
“It was more quiet and reserved than usual. No joking around. But they’ll do fine on the case, if that’s what you’re wondering. They’re dealing with the fact that they’re losing a dear friend, but you’ve trained them—all of us, actually—very well. They’re still handling themselves professionally…seem to be on top of things…”
“Good.”
“What about you? If you don’t mind me asking, where are you with all of this?” Boarding for their section was called, so they got in line.
“Getting by,” Vince said. “Knowing how much time I have left is a weight on my shoulders, but at least I have time to prepare.”
“Does everyone know now?”
Vince took Angela’s bag and stowed it away for her. “Everyone but my brother. I don’t want to tell him over the phone, though, so it’s a matter of going to see him or having him come here.”
“I hope you guys can find a way to get closer. Did it go okay with Charlie?” In some sick, twisted way, she had to know what that conversation had entailed. Maybe some part of her wanted an excuse to cry without Vince having to think it was about him. “Window or middle seat?”
Vince eyed the cramped coach seating. Another passenger, a short, gruff looking man, already occupied the aisle seat and pretended not to see Vince’s six-foot-three self eying the seat with envy. “Middle.”
“Anyway,” Angela said, once they were seated, “on top of the prognosis, having to tell everyone has to be wearing you out. At least you’re almost done breaking the news.”
“Sorry. I’m being nosy and inconsiderate.”
“You’re being concerned,” Vince corrected. As much as he wanted to talk about anything but his cancer, he didn’t know what other subject matter would be any more fitting. “Not everything you say is offensive, you know. You can stop walking on eggshells.”
“Okay, fine. Here goes nothing. I know it’s not like you to…open up to people, to let your problems become theirs, and I’m not really like that either, but I know that when I do occasionally let people in, things aren’t quite so hard.”
Vince gave her a small grin of appreciation. “I’ll try.”
“Good.” Angela let out a long breath. “I couldn’t sleep at all last night,” she muttered. “You?” Why am I sharing this? she wondered.
“I’m sorry. I actually slept surprisingly well. Didn’t sleep well the night I found out. I think it caught up with me last night.”
“Good. Sleep’s a good thing.”
They spent the rest of the first flight, layover, and connecting flight not saying much. Angela didn’t want to bother Vince any further with her personal questions. Vince wanted to vent but preferred not to burden others with his problems, just as Angela had accurately accused him of behaving all too often. They studied their thick files instead.
Upon landing, they rented a white sedan and made their way to the Louisiana Correctional Institute for Women in St. Gabriel, outside of Baton Rouge. They rode with the windows cracked, delighting in the warm, fresh air that made it feel like they were on a tropical vacation. Once they had navigated to the highway, Vince felt like they were in a better environment for discussing the details of Whittaker’s file.
Angela started. “Three very different men, three different MOs—one gunshot to the head, one knife to the jugular, wow, and one strangulation…this lady seems pretty strong…no signature…how did she even get convicted of three murders that were so different in nature?” Angela asked, browsing her case file while Vince drove.
“She confessed to the first two when they charged her with the last murder. Did you actually read any of it?” he asked, feeling rude.
Angela had skimmed at best, her mind elsewhere. She ignored Vince’s question. “…Pled guilty of three murders in a state that has capital punishment?” Angela said. “Did she really think she’d avoid death row in a plea deal?”
“My guess is no. They just had too much on her. She would rather have been in prison than in the public eye, on trial.”
“What makes you say that?” Angela inquired.
“Her sister made a statement to a local newspaper saying exactly what I just said,” Vince said with a twinkle in his eye.
“Pff. Way to pay attention, Hawkins,” she said under her breath, looking for a copy of the clipping.
Just like that, Vince realized how good it felt to have his partner with him on his last case, so to speak. Though the team didn’t have partnerships in any official capacity, there was no better way to describe his and Angela’s working relationship. Once she’d gotten used to the team upon joining six years ago, they had both found that they worked best together.
“Ah. There it is,” Angela said, finding the article Vince had cited. She hadn’t gotten to it yet. “So she wasn’t out for attention. Explains the lack of a consistent MO or signature. She wasn’t trying to make a statement, didn’t want to be caught, but she was. Says she had no former connections with the men, so it wasn’t personal, unless they missed some sort of connection.”
“Stalkers?” Vince posited.
“They asked her on the stand. She denied that,” Angela said after some reading. “Besides, stalkers get away with it for around a year on average. Surrogates? Ugh, this makes no sense…”
“Well, that’s why we’re here. Let’s go over the details of the victims, see what we can find that the prosecution missed.”
