Richard Hale - Frozen Past

She leaned up against Luke and he stroked her soft hair, thinking how close he had been to losing her. He didn’t like thinking about that.

Stansfield hung up and said, “Alright, Officer Hinton’s gonna drive all of you to your houses. I want you to stay in them. Do not leave for any reason unless you are accompanied by your parents or a police officer. Detective Jennings will be over to see you when he gets back tomorrow.” He pointed at Luke. “I’m coming to your house and you’re going to show me this software. If we can get him tonight, I’ll feel much better about everything.”

Luke was in his room with Stansfield and the computer program was up and running, but Smith’s cell phone must have been off, because nothing was showing on the map. Luke was worried the killer may have figured things out.

“I need a copy of this program,” Stansfield said. “I bet the FBI doesn’t have anything this good. You sure you don’t want to tell me who gave you this?”

Luke shook his head. “The best I can say is I’ll talk to him and see if he wants to talk to you guys.”

“And he has another program that let you decode the cell number the perp was calling you from?”

“Yep.”

“That would be worth a million bucks to us. You need to convince your buddy to cough it up. Might save some lives.”

“I’ll see what he says.”

Stansfield nodded and turned to go. “Remember, stay inside until we nab this guy. He’s gotta’ be pretty pissed at all of you right now. Squad car will be parked out front to watch the house. You’ll be safe here.”

Luke wasn’t so sure about that, but he didn’t say anything. Stansfield went downstairs and he could hear murmurs through the floor as the cop talked to his parents. Luke wondered how Ellie was doing.

The Citation 500 cruised at thirty three thousand feet and barely a ripple coursed through the aluminum skin as the jet made its way back to Virginia. Jaxon sat, tense, as the smooth air cradled Victoria in her seat and she snored from the effects of the pain killers she had been given back in Indiana. He stared at her, unable to sleep himself, the events of the night too fresh in his mind.

Vick’s hair was fanned out over her arm and the dark strands stood out starkly against her pale skin. He remembered a vision from his marriage with her sleeping just as she was, a wispy smile on her lips, hair spread out around her and her bare skin glowing in the soft candle light. It had been one of those rare evenings when Michael was out of the house at his grandparents and they had an evening to themselves. He had drunk too much and she took advantage of him. Not that he had complained or anything. He had watched her sleep afterwards and felt his life could not get any better. He had been right. It had gotten worse. A lot worse.

He turned and looked out the small window into the night and thought of his dead son. Malcom Switzer had professed his innocence to Jaxon over and over again. Pleaded with him as he pointed the gun at the killer’s head, two of his buddies trying to keep Jaxon from shooting Switzer the night they took him down. It hadn’t mattered to Jaxon. He didn’t hear him. Wouldn’t hear him. He pulled the trigger just the same and as his friends and workmates wrestled Jaxon to the ground, only one of the bullets found its mark. In Switzer’s thigh. He had screamed like a woman and it had made Jaxon smile.

Now, he had to wrap his mind around the reality that Malcom Switzer had been right. Or at least it appeared he was right. The two frozen ears were on this very plane, along with the various animal parts, kept in the hold, under ice, awaiting the FBI’s forensic lab to analyze them and determine who they belonged to. Jaxon didn’t need the FBI to tell him that. He knew they belonged to Michael.

His anger and guilt had been aimed at the wrong man for so many years and apparently his aim was as bad as the night he shot Switzer. Switzer was a cold and brutal killer, Jaxon knew, but he wasn’t Michael’s cold and brutal killer. This new man…no…man wasn’t a word he could put next to him…this new beast was killing kids and stalking Jaxon’s mind. He had to be stopped. There would be none of Jaxon’s ‘friends’ around this time. No one to influence his aim. He would make sure of that. This asshole was going to die a slow and painful death in front of Jaxon’s eyes and nobody would be able to help him.

“What are you thinking?” Victoria’s voice startled him out of his thoughts.

He turned toward her. “Just imagining this guy dying slowly in front of me as I wrap my fingers around his neck and squeeze.”

She searched his face and yet he couldn’t read her reaction one way or the other. She sighed and finally said, “I’ll hold him down.”

The funeral for Sally was three days later. Jaxon, Victoria, Holt, and the chief were up front along with the entire force. Some of the FBI guys on the case were in attendance too. The news crews had shown up and there had been an uncomfortable compromise reached after a few of the cops made their feelings known concerning the appearance of the local reporters. The crews elected to keep their distance until the proceedings were over.

Victoria’s face looked better, but she still had a small bandage just above her left eye. A sickly, yellow, brown color could be seen peeking out from underneath it. Jaxon’s back was still sore but he was able to function. He had even been a pall bearer.

As the priest intoned his words over the audience, Sally’s father sat stoically next to her mother who leaked tears the entire time. Though she was crying, she remained eerily silent. Her father periodically looked up at Jaxon. The man seemed to be questioning him with his eyes or maybe it was just his imagination. Jaxon didn’t blame the man. Hell, he was questioning himself ever since the explosion.

Jaxon’s phone vibrated in his pocket and he chose to ignore it. The whole force was here and if they needed him, someone would tell him. Jaxon’s eyes wandered the grounds. He couldn’t seem to bring himself to look at Sally’s casket. Every time his eyes passed over the flag draped aluminum box, he would jerk them away as if he were staring into the sun. He knew there was probably some psychological term or condition for what he was doing, but he didn’t care about that now. He just wanted to be away from here. And soon.

A few groundskeepers were busy tending the flowers and hedges in the distance and he could hear the purr of a leaf blower bleeding through the priest’s voice. A few coughs into fists and quiet snifflings made their way to his ears as he scanned the headstones and flowers.

Something caught his eye. Just a brief flash of black in the distance. He wasn’t even sure if he actually saw something, but his subconscious held his eyes on the spot. From behind a tree an arm clad in black appeared followed by the torso of a person. The face remained obscured behind the tree. His cell phone began vibrating again and for some reason the urgency in the vibration seemed more pronounced than the last call. He was imagining this, he knew, but the urge to pull it out of his pocket was overwhelming. The black flash disappeared behind the tree again. The phone buzzed and buzzed in his pocket.

The priest was rambling on about life after death, and the leaf blower was growing louder, but the buzzing in his pocket stopped. At least for a moment. The phone began vibrating again and Jaxon’s eyes were drawn to the tree. The black clad arm was in view again only it was raised to a head as if someone was holding a cell phone to their ear. Jaxon started, and then frantically reached into his pocket for his phone. Victoria turned to him and the chief cleared his throat as Jaxon struggled to gain access to the buzzing gadget trapped in his pants. People were starting to look at him as he finally freed the phone and brought it to his face. The caller I.D. display sent a jolt through his body. He showed it to Victoria who took a quick breath. It was all zeroes.