Without Warning (5 page)

“You think Hagel could have done all of this?” Hank asked.

“This was almost a year after Hagel was killed.”

The implications were hard to even contemplate. A minute ago we had assumed that Hagel was responsible for the corpse found on the capsule, because only he could have predicted Jenny’s murder. But there was no way he could have set the fire; he was already dead himself by then. Logic dictated that if someone else set it, then someone else committed the “capsule murder.”

And someone else killed Jenny.

I wasn’t quite ready to give in to that logic just then. All of this was so bizarre that there could easily be an explanation that neither Hank nor I could think of in the moment.

For example, the first prediction referred to “Mrs. Chief” dying at the hands of her lover. Maybe “Mrs. Chief” had another meaning altogether; maybe it was some kind of cryptic message, and didn’t refer to Jenny at all.

I expressed that to Hank, and he said that it was possible, even though neither of us believed that it was. In any event, we weren’t going to figure it out in the moment; we weren’t going to figure it out in many moments. It was just too weird.

So all that was left to do was go through the rest of the predictions in the capsule, which we did.

At which point weird turned into downright scary.

There were ten other predictions in the box. All either directly or cryptically predicted a tragedy. One of them had fallen off to the side, so it was impossible to know where it had been placed in the packet. It might have originally been on top.

In any event, it only confirmed what by then had become obvious, that the person who had made the predictions was also the person responsible for the body found with the capsule.

It said T
HE BURIER IS HIMSELF BURIED.

The meaning of most of the others was unclear; they vaguely referred to possible events or people that I was unfamiliar with, but that I feared I would learn about very soon. Number four was all too clear: P
OOR
G
EORGE.
H
OPEFULLY HE SOLD HIMSELF LIFE INSURANCE.

It seemed as if it had to be referencing George Myerson, insurance salesman, who just twelve hours earlier was lying in his car at the bottom of a ravine.

“Damn…” was all Hank could say, but I think it summed up things pretty well.

Prediction number five was every bit as much of a stunner. It said M. H
IGGINS, PURVEYOR OF LIES, WILL LIE IN PLACE FOREVER.

It had to be referring to Matt Higgins.

The last page was possibly the most ominous. It said W
HEN THE WALLS COME TUMBLING DOWN, NOTHING WILL EVER BE THE SAME.

I needed time to process all of this, and in the meantime there was still much to be done. I called Danny and Sheila back into the room, and Hank and I watched as they meticulously emptied all of the other boxes containing predictions. As far as any of us could tell, everything seemed to be in order.

I told Danny that we needed all the pages in prediction box 19 thoroughly examined for fingerprints and DNA. Both types of identification would easily survive the passage of four years, if that’s when the pages were buried. There was always the possibility that the capsule had been dug up and the extra prediction box subsequently been inserted.

“Use the state labs if you need to, or federal. I’ll make whatever calls I need to make.”

I also asked Danny to photograph the pages before he started to analyze them, so that I would have copies right away. Then Hank and I went back to my office, and the next steps were becoming clear in my mind.

“We’ve got a serial on our hands,” I said. “And it’s somebody in town, or close by.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Because I don’t buy that George Myerson was a coincidence. I think he was killed by whoever made those predictions, and I think it happened yesterday because the killer knew we were opening the capsule. He was sending us a message that he’s watching, and he’s dangerous.”

“That doesn’t narrow it down much,” Hank said. “I read in the paper the other day that they were going to open the capsule. Anybody interested would know about it.”

“Call a meeting first thing in the morning. All overtime and vacation is canceled as of right now. I want every officer in the department on this.”

“You got it.”

“We need to find out what every prediction in there means, and whether they have happened yet.”

“We know one that hasn’t happened,” Hank said.

I nodded. “Yes, we do.” He was talking about Matt Higgins, and the obvious threat to his life. “We need to tell him about it.”

“That means it goes in the paper.”

I had thought of that, but it couldn’t be a consideration at that point. “He has a right to know, and protect himself. Besides, if we assume that George’s death last night happened when it did because the killer knew the capsule was going to be opened and wanted to send a message, then he knows that by now we’re aware of the threat to Matt. Putting it in the paper doesn’t change anything, doesn’t tip him off in any way.”

Once I was back in my office, I called Katie Sanford. “We had a deal,” she said, in place of “hello.”

“That is the least of the things we need to talk about,” I said.

“So let’s talk.”

“Can you come over?”

“Now?”

“Now would be good.”

“Can I bring Matt?”

I thought about it for a moment. Certainly Matt, of all people, had a right to know what was going on, but I didn’t want him as part of this initial conversation. “No, but tell him to stand by. You’ll need to fill him in on it, in great detail.”

“That’s a little cryptic, Jake.”

“I’ll be very clear when we talk.”

“I’ll be right over.”

“This is a copy of the first prediction out of box nineteen,” I said. I handed it to Katie and watched her read, “Mrs. Chief will die … at the hands of her lover?” I saw her take a deep breath, and then watched as her mind went through the calculations. She was having the exact same reaction that I had.

But her initial conclusion was slightly different and more definitive than mine, albeit probably more accurate. “He didn’t kill her, Jake. He could not have planned it a year in advance.” She paused; the next words were hard for her to get out. “He loved her.”

Katie had never believed that Roger killed Jenny, though the evidence was easily enough to convince a jury otherwise. I had never before thought there was even a remote chance that she was right. That was then, this was now.

“There’s much more, Katie.”

Having previously told her that everything was off the record, at least until I said otherwise, I decided to show her the predictions in the order that we had seen them, but leaving the one threatening Matt for the end. That way I’d get her point of view before that one might color her reaction. The second one she saw was the one predicting the fire on Twenty-third Street.

“The fire happened after Roger died,” I said, because it was the crucial piece of information for her to have.

She was trying to process it all. “So the same person that started the fire killed Jenny?”

“At this point it’s a fair conclusion,” I said. “And it’s about to get fairer.”

I showed her the other predictions, one at a time, still saving the one that threatened Matt for last. When I got to the one about George Myerson dying, she immediately understood the implication. “It’s ongoing,” she said.

“I’m afraid so. Which makes this last one all the more important.”

She read the threatening page and didn’t even blink. “We need to figure out what he thinks Matt lied about.”

“Any ideas?”

“None. Maybe Matt will have some.”

“How long has he been with the paper?”

She thought for a few moments. “Not sure … about six years.”

“So a year before the capsule was buried?”

She nodded. “Sounds about right.”

“I’ll need every story he worked on from the time he got there until the capsule was buried.”

“Okay, I’ll go through the archives. Jake, there’s something else we need to talk about.”

“Yeah, I know. This raises doubts.” I didn’t have to tell her that I was referring to the question of whether Roger was guilty of Jenny’s murder.

She laughed a derisive laugh. “Raises doubts? Is that how you see it? Come on, Jake. It blows the whole thing out of the water.”

“That may be where this is going, but it’s not there yet.”

“Right. Roger came back from the dead and burned down that apartment building, and then he killed George Myerson last night. I’m just annoyed that he didn’t stop by the house afterwards to say hello.”

“Let’s wait until we know all the facts, okay, Katie? And for now, I suggest we focus on the people that are alive and in danger.”

“Like Matt. I agree with that. But Jake, you should understand that we are going to write about this.”

I recognized that and was okay with it. I also was entertaining the idea that we might plant items that we’d want the perpetrator to see and believe, but I couldn’t share that potential strategy with Katie. “Tell Matt if he wants to talk to me, I’m here.”

“I will,” she said. “And I’ll start putting together the stories he wrote during those years.”

“Who wrote the stories about Jenny’s murder, and Roger’s trial?”

“Matt.”

Maybe the lies that were referred to in the capsule predictions were contained in those stories.

Or maybe not.

I didn’t have the slightest idea.

“We’ve got to be very careful with this.” Those were the first words that Matt Higgins said when Katie told him about the apparent threat to his life.

“That’s for sure,” she said.

“We’re in control,” he said. “It’s our story, and it’s huge.”

Katie was more than a little surprised by his reaction; he was focusing on the developments as a prize story to be followed and reported on, rather than his being the possible target of a serial killer. “You’re not worried about this?”

“What good does it do to be worried?” he asked. “I’ll be careful, but it’s not going to stop us from doing our job. What I’m really scared of is losing our grip on the story.”

“How would we do that?”

“Because once we run our first piece, it’s not local anymore. It’s an unusual story, and it’s going to attract the national press. We need to be ready for that.”

“We have unique access.”

He nodded. “And we need to keep that. But we also need to start way ahead, so far ahead that we’re the go-to outlet for anything that breaks.”

She was impressed with his dedication and focus. “How would you suggest we do that?”

“By not rushing ahead. We get as many of our ducks lined up as we can before we break the story. But then we don’t let it out all at once; we stretch it out over four or five days, maybe a week.”

She agreed with his approach, and they talked strategy for how they would accomplish it. It would be a delicate balancing act, reporting the news independently while maintaining a “most favored status” with Jake and the police department. Especially since most of what they already knew was privileged, subject to her agreement with Jake.

“We need to convince him that it’s in his interest to let us publish,” Katie said.

“That’s got to be your job,” Matt said.

“It’s complicated,” she responded.

“Because of Roger?” He asked it hesitantly; it wasn’t a topic they spoke about often or easily.

She nodded. “Because of Roger. It’s going to reopen everything, and I’m not sure how Jake will react.” A pause, and then, “I’m not sure how I will react.”

“This exonerates him; it’s obvious.”

“To you and me; it may take a little while for Jake to fully grasp the concept. In the meantime, I told him we’d dig up every story you wrote between the time you got here and when the capsule was buried.”

“Why?”

“Because the killer thinks you lied. Chances are it was in something you wrote. At least that’s what Jake thinks, and I think he’s right.”

“Can we get copies of the other predictions in that box?” he asked.

“I’m not sure; I can ask. Jake showed them to me, but I don’t remember them all. And we can’t use them yet anyway.”

Matt seemed frustrated by the restrictions. “Okay, that’s yours to deal with. For now I think we should keep a lid on this, at least internally. Only you and I should know about it, until we’re ready to break it. Otherwise there’s too much chance it could get out.”

She nodded. “I’m okay with that. And I’m going to look into arranging private security for you.”

He shook his head. “No. I’ll be careful, but I don’t want anyone looking over my shoulder.”

“This isn’t just a story, Matt. This is a story that you are a part of. It’s a serial killer story, and you are a potential victim.”

“I understand that, Katie. But it’s also the biggest story we will ever work on, bigger than the hurricane. We need to milk it for all it’s worth.”

She was not getting through to him; he was looking at it as an ambition-fueled game. “Matt…”

He smiled. “I know. It’s dangerous, and you think I’m not taking that danger seriously enough. I’m more scared than I’m letting on, and I promise I’ll be careful. But you know how often something like this comes along for a paper our size? Try never.”

When the meeting ended, Katie called Harold Novack, a lawyer and outside counsel to the
Journal
. He represented the paper in a number of court cases, but more importantly was a generally smart, prudent man who was also a close confidante of Katie’s. He had been a valued friend and adviser to her parents, and she trusted him perhaps more than she trusted anyone else.

She laid out the entire situation for him, knowing that she could totally trust him to keep it confidential. The conversation was reassuring to her, in that he felt she had handled things properly to that point.

“So you don’t see any potential landmines?” she asked.

He laughed. “I didn’t say that. You’ll just have to step around them as they appear. And they will definitely appear.”