Precipice (10 page)

Lynch greeted his challenge with a moment of silence before his cold response. “You sure about that?” He gave the girl a sharp prod in the side, strong enough to elicit a yelp and possibly break a rib. Will winced, but stifled any audible reaction, struggling to maintain his own bluff. The gorilla moved close enough to Will’s hiding place to force a further retreat, cutting off most of his line of sight. All he could spy was Lynch’s sneering face.

“Interesting. I guess you really don’t care about her.”

Will didn’t respond.

Lynch reached into his back pocket and pulled out a cigarette. He placed it gently between his lips and lit it before drawing a deep breath of acrid smoke into his lungs and then expelling it out into the humid air in a circular puff. “Okay then. Nichols, let’s go.” From his hiding spot, Will heard them turn back toward the house, their shoes crunching on dry leaves underfoot. As he began to relax, Will realized he’d been holding his breath. He exhaled a slow breath and his muscles ceased their twitching.

“Oh! Will?” Lynch’s voice took on an unsettling lilt. “I almost forgot.” The heart that had begun to settle back in his chest leapt into the throat. A slight pause was followed by another yelp from the girl.

Then a muffled bang.

Nearly an hour crept by before Will dared to move from his fetal position against the base of the tree. The sun had disappeared, giving way to a dark and cloudy sky, devoid of stars. He felt so empty, so alone. As a gentle rain began to fall, the dirt on ground, already dampened from his tears, liquefied into a muddy cocktail. His tears flowed silently, but his ears had still registered the cleanup efforts of the men in the clearing behind him.

It had taken them a few minutes to haul the girl’s body to their beat-up truck, roughly heave her in the back, throw the truck in reverse, and peel out down the gravel driveway, launching a spray of rocky pebbles into the air.

Will blundered to his feet, hampered by muddy bandages. His vision still blurred from tears welling up in his eyes, though the initial deluge had slowed to a trickle. He stumbled away from the house and through the woods. It took forty-five minutes to reach the final bridge out of town, though it seemed to take both no time at all and all the time in the world. His mind was disoriented and distracted, swirling with terrifying, gruesome thoughts and bloody images.

His recent actions and cowardice cost good people their lives…innocent people. So much blood coated his hands. If only he’d done what he was told…if only he hadn’t snooped into those stupid record books, five innocent people would still be alive and well.
Dear Allie, Mr. Miles, Ol’ Art, Mr. Booth and his daughter…
Will’s mind blurred as their faces floated before him, taunting him, blaming him.

When Allie was murdered, life as he knew it ended. He’d believed it couldn’t possibly get any worse. No less than three times in the weeks after her death, he contemplated ending the pain prematurely, through a special blend of medications he once read about in a mystery novel. Once, he even went so far as to mix the deadly cocktail, only to lose his nerve at the last second and hurl the drink across the room, smashing the glass against the far wall.

But he’d been wrong. Life had only worsened since that pit. As he struggled to deal with Allie’s death, he’d become responsible for four more deaths. Four more innocents.

This deadly curse had become too much for Will. Every day, every minute, every breath he breathed plunged a dagger into the heart of another innocent person, blithely minding their own business.

He stumbled toward the dim glow from a solitary street lamp, midway across the bridge to help motorists navigate its slippery terrain through bad storms. As he staggered closer, the river below grew into a raging roar of rapids, crashing into rocks and dragging large branches along with its powerful flow. The increased volume from rainfall runoff magnified and exacerbated its flow. The night was too dark and foggy to see the water as it raged ten stories below, but the noisy rush assured Will it was there.

Not wanting to endanger another soul with his cursed life, Will clambered onto the wet concrete barrier next to the lamp. He gripped the post for balance as he straightened and tried to gaze down into the river’s watery depths. Will fought to hold steady and keep his balance on the ledge, slippery with rainwater.

Gathering his composure, he shoved aside his doubts that wrestled with his conscience, keeping them caged. His chest ached with the pain. He closed his eyes and strove to clear his head, to drive away the memories that swam before his mind.

As the gentle breeze buffeted his open coat, he leaned forward, his weight restrained by the tight grip he kept on the light post. He took a final peek toward the rushing water, but no light penetrated the darkness below. All was black.

“Allison, my dear, sweet Allie,” he whispered. “I’m so sorry…” And then, taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes and let go…

Morning began earlier than expected for Jay and Lila Hicks that day. It started jarringly with a wrong number, the shrill ring of their bedside phone sounding three times before the sun even considered rising for the day. On the other end a gruff man’s voice asked for someone they were not. Unable to return to sleep after their rude awakening, they reluctantly rolled out of bed for the day. Well into their seventies, the couple preferred to wake with the sun, so pulling open the shades to blackness felt strange.

Both Jay and Lila stayed in good shape for their age. Since retiring from the public school system, they strove to find activities to keep their minds and hands busy. Jay put in a few shifts with the retirement community posse, a form of neighborhood watch. While the force dealt with little real crime—only an occasional break-in—the aging population had accidents or falls from time to time. Jay had managed to save a few lives in his brief time on the force.

Lila split her time between working at a local flower shop, creating various floral arrangements, and volunteering at their church. She’d always found that giving her time in service was one of the most rewarding things a person could do and she took full advantage. Today, however, both had the day off.

It was Jay who came up with the idea. A handful of trails meandered near their house, including one that wove down by the river. They’d take a stroll and enjoy a stunning view of the morning’s sunrise, the brilliant colors reflecting on the water as the sun emerged from its sojourn around the other side of the world. This morning, the trail seemed muddy, but they’d traversed this trail many times over the years and had come prepared.

Reaching their destination along the bank, they spread out a blanket and settled down to drink in nature’s splendor. They arrived just as the light began to rise in the east, casting a gorgeous myriad of colors painted across the entire horizon. Reds and oranges and yellows reflected their beauty on everything. Morning dew, combined with moisture deposited during the previous night’s rain, enhanced and brightened every color.

When the sun completely emerged and the brilliant aerial colors faded, Jay and Lila spent another thirty minutes admiring nature awaken from its slumber. Birds and butterflies fluttered about, flowers appeared to bloom before their eyes, and the sounds of nature enveloped them. Finally, with the warmth of the rays enveloping them, they rose and packed everything for their walk home.

That was when Lila spotted it. A pile of clothes lay crumpled on the rocks underneath the bridge. Never one to leave litter around, she cautiously picked her way down to gather them. Maybe she could clean the clothes and donate them to a shelter in the city. Jay patiently sat on a nearby park bench to wait for his wife. She clambered down the slope toward the water, each step deliberate and sturdy to avoid slipping on the wet turf.

The clothes were difficult to see. They’d fallen into a small eddy between two of the larger rocks, but the garments appeared ripped and torn as though tossed and beaten against the stones for most of the night. During last night’s storm, the calm, peaceful eddy must have transformed into a raging whirlpool, alternating between pulling the clothes out into the whitewater and smashing them against the rocks.
So much for donating them.

Lila came within ten feet of the clothes before she noticed it. “Aaaaaaahhhhhh! Jay!” she screeched.

The clothes housed within them, just as ripped and torn as the garments themselves, a man’s body. It was almost indiscernible as a person after the beating from the rocks. Sprawled against one of the larger stones, the body gently rocked with the flow of the current. As his chest rose in the water, a cough broke free from his lips.

He was alive.

***

Dominic and Shannon arrived for work the next day at seven sharp, a full hour before the rest of the office would trickle through the door. Yesterday had been fruitful and both were eager to get to work.

As they strolled into the office together, a jubilant, somewhat haggard Jacob Sloan greeted them. “Randal! Faye! We’re waiting for you. Come in!” The two shared a look of bewilderment. Their boss was never this perky. Nor this early.

“We?”

“We’ve got a visitor.” Sloan spun and headed toward his office, but turned back after a few steps. “Well? Aren’t you coming?”

“Yes, sir.” Dominic said. He and Shannon fell in step behind him, intrigued. “Who is it?”

“I’ll let him introduce himself, but he knows a bit about our latest victim. Turns out, Braxton got played. Anyway, I think he’ll be very helpful going forward.”

“Well…great.” Dominic didn’t know what to say, but the prospect of another break in the case piqued his interest. If this mystery man was as helpful as Sloan suggested, they could be on the verge of cracking this wide open, but he remained suspicious. People rarely dropped into SISA with actionable intel.

As they neared Sloan’s office a well-dressed, though just as weary-looking, man rose to greet them. Mid-60s, though in better shape than the average man his age. Dominic took the aggressor role, “I’m Special Investigator Dominic Randal and this is Agent Shannon Faye. We’re the lead detectives on this case.”

“General Michael Krieger. Nice to meet you.”

“We were told you have some information for us.”

“Right. I know a fair amount about your most recent victim, Braxton. He and I were…doing business together.”

Dominic and Shannon shared another quizzical look. “So, what do you have for us?”

“Well, for starters…I know why he was killed.” Krieger paused. He sighed before continuing, “He was held up late at the office that night with paperwork, so he left the museum later than they were expecting. That’s why they crossed paths in the parking lot. He wasn’t supposed to ever see their faces. But once they knew he could recognize them….”

“Who is this ‘they’ you’re referring to?”

“As far as I can tell, just hired thugs. Never figured out who hired them though. I have a couple hunches, but nothing concrete.”

Shannon entered the conversation for the first time, “Nothing personal, but while it’s nice to know, that isn’t all that useful. We need practical intel. Our boss thought you’d be helpful.”

“Well, I do some freelance work that might come in handy.”

“Freelance doing what?” she cocked her head to the side and raised an eyebrow.

“That’s hard to explain...” he began slowly. “Let’s just say…I’m good at finding things…whether it’s the location of someone or information.”

Dominic and Shannon exchanged a doubtful glance. Something about this man felt off. Krieger’s appearance had put Sloan in unusually high spirits, but that could be sleep deprivation wreaking havoc. They’d need to keep a close eye on Krieger.

“Well…” Dominic’s gut churned, but this wasn’t his call. Sloan’s decision was already made. Besides, maybe this man would come in useful after all. “It’s nice to have you on board.” Krieger nodded in response

“There’s more, too.” Sloan grabbed a few papers from his desk and handed them to Dominic. “The behavioral analysis guys worked up a profile based on that poem.”

“Oh yeah? Let’s see what we’ve got…” He began to read. “Male, 20s to 30s. Highly intelligent, well-read. Obsessed with control. He’s testing us with an intellectual challenge, but probably doesn’t expect us to actually best him. Reaching out to law enforcement or the media shows a desire for fame, or rather infamy. Going head to head with federal agents and winning would feed his feeling of invincibility.”

“What about the battles and soldiers? Is he planning a war?” Shannon asked.

“Ummm…” he scanned the page. “The quote references a few things. He sees himself coming out of the depths. It’s a common psychological concept. He sees himself as separate from the general domestic population, which probably means he’s foreign. He claims to be pitting brothers against one another, a phenomenon that famously happened in the American Civil War where families were sometimes split and fought on opposite sides. Indicates he likely came from a broken family himself…probably an abusive one as well. He feels hurt by not having that traditional upbringing and sees himself as getting revenge on his family for that, as well as the society that allowed it to happen. The antichrist reference suggests a probable religious background or upbringing, but it also means he’s rejected its teaching and embraced his role as the villain.” Dominic scanned the rest of the document, but it was just more of the same.

“Make sure everyone has a copy of this,” Sloan ordered before dismissing them.

The briefing complete, Dominic and Shannon turned and headed into the hall, leaving Krieger and their boss to hash out the details for payment and rules and regulations. Over the next couple hours, they catalogued the particulars of Krieger’s knowledge, cleared him to be read into the case details, and briefed him on his role in the next steps of the investigation.