Richard Hale - Frozen Past

“We won’t let go! Come on man, it’s gonna pull you under in a minute anyway!”

John thought about it for a second and then made up his mind. He let one hand go, grabbed the branch they were holding out to him, and then let his other hand go. He floundered for a second and Luke thought he was going to get swept away, but he managed to get his other hand on the branch and they all pulled him quickly to shore. He stumbled climbing up the bank and then collapsed from exhaustion as his brother held onto to his arm like he would never let go. After a few seconds John said, “You can let go now Jim, I’m ok.”

“I know,” Jimmy said, letting go of John’s arm. “I know.” And he grinned at his brother who, despite his exhaustion, grinned back at him.

“Thanks,” John said.

Ellie hugged him around the neck saying, “I’m sorry, John! I didn’t mean to make you fall in. I’m so sorry!”

“It’s ok, Ellie,” John said. “I know it wasn’t your fault.”

“Who were those kids anyway?” Luke asked.

“One of them was Jason Margot,” Ellie said. “I don’t know the other one. Jason was the one who stuck his foot out.”

“Sounds like Jason deserves a little payback,” Jimmy said.

“Let’s just let it go,” Ellie said. “John’s ok and nobody got seriously hurt.”

“Bullshit!” John said. “I’m not letting this go. They almost killed me!”

Ellie let go of John and sat back on her knees looking distraught. Luke wasn’t sure how to feel about this. He wasn’t one who liked revenge, but John was right. They almost killed him.

“I got a cool idea and nobody will get hurt,” Jimmy said, “but it should scare the crap out of them. Come on.”

John got up slowly and they all followed Jimmy back to Cotton Court.

After five long months of nothing breaking in the case, Jaxon received a call that got his blood going. He grabbed Sally from the break room saying, “Come on! We’ve got a lead on the pool kids. Let’s go!”

They drove into the familiar neighborhood and made their way to a house which sat directly across from the pool complex. It was a two story, brick affair with a perfectly manicured yard and fresh paint on the eaves. A man stood in the yard watering a patch of flowers planted around his matching brick mailbox. They parked in the driveway and stepped out into the bright morning sun.

Jaxon could see what looked like a swim team practicing at the pool. A man who appeared to be the coach was blowing his whistle and gesturing at something in the water Jaxon could not see.

“What are we doing here?” Sally asked as they watched the man put his hose down and make his way toward them.

“You’ll see,” Jaxon said and grinned.

As the man walked up, Jaxon produced his I.D. and asked, “Are you Mr. Lolly?”

“Yes sir,” the man said. “Glad you two could get here so quick. But please, call me Burt.” And he stuck out his hand to shake. His grip was like shaking a stone statue. Only one that gripped back. It took everything for Jaxon not to flinch.

“Detective Jennings, FCPD and this is Detective Winston.”

“Nice to meet you two,” Burt said. “Come on in and I’ll show you what I got.”

They followed the short stocky man of about seventy in through the garage, entering the house through the kitchen. An older woman with bright red hair stood at the sink washing what looked like the breakfast dishes. She turned as they stepped in behind Burt.

“This is my wife Marie. Honey, this is Detective Jennings and Detective Winston.”

“Nice to see you,” she said as she wiped her hands on a dish towel. “Can I get you some coffee or something to eat?”

“Coffee would be great,” Jaxon said.

“And you young lady?”

“A cup of coffee would be spectacular,” Sally said with a smile. “What a lovely kitchen you have.”

Marie beamed, said “Thank you,” and grabbed two coffee mugs from the cupboard behind her.

“We’ll be in the den, sweetie,” Burt said. “Could you bring the mugs in there?”

She smiled and nodded.

Jaxon followed Burt through the house to a room which was in the rear of the spacious first floor. It was lined with books and had a dark wood desk on the wall opposite the door. Small and tidy, it was a man’s space and Burt had it decorated with small models of military jets along with pictures of a younger Burt in uniform standing next to various aircraft and servicemen. Framed medals hung on the wall behind the desk and Jaxon recognized the Distinguished Flying Cross in a frame all by itself.

Burt saw him looking the medal over and said, “Were you in the service?”

Jaxon nodded. “Army. Major in the M.P.’s. Ten years, but I never saw battle. Got out before Desert Storm and was too young for Vietnam.”

Burt nodded. “Doesn’t mean you’re anything less than you are. It shaped all of us that have been in. One way or another. Good or bad.”

“What was the DFC for?” Jaxon asked.

“Chu Lai, Vietnam. Hill 488. I helped one of the war’s greatest heroes make it off that hell hole alive. His name was Gunnery Sergeant Jimmie Howard. He was Staff Sergeant at the time. He was awarded the Congressional Medal of Honor for that battle. He deserved a medal more than I.”

“What did you fly?” Jaxon asked, guessing at his occupation.

“A-4 Skyhawk. Best damn attack aircraft McDonell Douglas ever built. Tough too. Brought my ugly ass home every time, even when she had holes in her.” He looked dead serious and Jaxon believed every word. He looked at a picture of two A-4’s in formation over an aircraft carrier at sea. He assumed one of them was Burt.

“I didn’t bring you back here to reminisce about the past,” Burt said, getting down to business, “but if you want to come by another time, I’ll tell you the whole story. Deal?”

“Deal,” Jaxon said.

“Alright, let me show you what I found,” Burt said, sitting at his desk and logging on to his computer. “I have a motion sensing surveillance system in the front yard, and as I was reviewing the recordings from Christmas, so I could clean up disc space, I saw this…”

He hit play and they watched as a nighttime shot from a camera high up looked over the front yard toward the street. His mailbox was in plain view and Jaxon recognized the pool across the street. From the right came what Jaxon could only assume was an adult male, about six feet four inches tall, huge, wearing black and moving in a crouch around the cars in the driveway, past the mailbox, and into the neighbor’s yard where he stepped behind a hedge and crouched down out of sight. He turned toward the camera as he hid and they caught a brief glimpse of a bright white face.

“An albino?” Jaxon asked no one.

“A mask,” Sally said. “It looked like a Halloween mask.

“That’s what I thought too,” Burt said. “Now, here is the interesting part. If you look at the time stamp,” he pointed to the upper right of the computer screen where the time was displayed and a few other numbers Jaxon could not decipher, “you’ll see thirty three minutes have elapsed.” He paused the video and pointed to the time. “The system is set only to record when it senses movement and it will continue recording as long as an object is moving in front of the sensor. It stops after five minutes of inactivity.”

Jaxon nodded understanding. He had seen many systems use this feature, especially ones which recorded to computer hard drives. It saved precious space and allowed for much longer monitoring times if it wasn’t running the whole time the system was armed.

Burt hit play again and they watched as the camera caught a young male walking down the sidewalk coming from the same direction as the masked man in the bushes. As he got closer, Jaxon recognized the clothing, even in the greenish glow of the night vision.