Richard Doetsch - The 13th Hour

Arilio tucked his blue shirt into his tan khakis as he and Randall walked about the rear of the house, looking as if they were on official police business. Brinehart drove his unmarked cruiser in, pulling up right next to Dance and getting out with an excited smile on his face.

Dance pulled two half-full duffel bags from his trunk and placed them next to the rear door.

Sam jogged down from the small berm where he had placed the last laser, pulling out a key and security card on his approach. “We’ve got fourteen minutes.”

JULIA WALKED DOWN the aisle of the AS 300, happy to be carrying nothing but her purse. Used to traveling with a briefcase and a too-heavy carry-on, she kept on thinking she had forgotten something.

She found her seat in business class, the wide-body leather chair enveloping her as she sat. She’d made it with time to spare. An elegant older woman, her silver hair swept up in a bun, sat in the seat beside her, her eyes focused on the airline magazine from the seat pouch.

Passengers continued boarding, the Friday mix of travelers always different from that of the rest of the week. While the flight was usually populated with businessmen and women, a number of families took the morning flight to get up to their vacation homes for the weekend. Julia looked at the young noisy children in an entirely new light. Two sisters, no more than five, played a singsong hand-slapping game that reduced them to fits of giggles every time they uttered the words “Miss Mary Mack, Mack, Mack.”

What used to test her patience as she tried to concentrate on work now brought a smile as she saw the wonder and excitement in the young faces. She was viewing the world from a different perspective, through different eyes.

“Nothing better,” the young blond businessman across the aisle said.

“I had forgotten all about the honesty of a child’s laugh,” Julia said with a nod.

“My kids are bit younger but they giggle just like that.”

“Going home to see them?” Julia asked.

“Day trip to Boston. Hopefully, I’ll be on the early evening flight back and get home in time to kiss them good night.”

“Last-minute business?” Julia said, having taken too many of those quick trips.

“Looking at a new deal.” The guy patted the spreadsheet in his lap. “My name’s Jason Cereta.”

“Julia,” she said with a smile.

“How many kids do you have?”

“In nine months, at least one.” Julia patted her belly, her first public admission of being pregnant.

“That’s so exciting.” The elderly woman in the window seat looked up from her magazine at Julia.

“And are you traveling on business or pleasure?” the old woman asked.

“Actually, I’m going to get a sonogram.”

“Now, that’s pleasure,” the woman said as she took off her jacket, folding it in her lap. “But a long way to go for a picture.”

“I know, but I love my doctor, and I wanted to surprise my husband with the first photo of his child.”

“He doesn’t know?”

“No, and it’s killing me.”

“My name is Katherine,” the old woman said. Her green eyes sparkled with life, her attitude and smile making it hard to tell her true age.

“Julia,” she said in return. No need for last names, just enough to allow for cordial conversation to pass the flight time before they disappeared from each other’s lives forever.

“We never had children,” Katherine continued. “But my husband and I love kids, always have. I’ve got plenty of grandnieces and grandnephews. Kids give us perspective, they remind us of what’s important in life. Am I right?” Katherine said as she leaned forward, looking at Jason.

“They are the reason I do what I do.” Jason said with a smile. “Believe me, I would never work this hard for myself.”

“And where are you heading?” Julia asked Katherine.

“Back to Chilmark. I was visiting my sister in Larchmont. My husband has been taken ill.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“No worries, you know how men are with a sniffle or fever. He’ll be fine.” But her eyes didn’t reflect the confidence of her words. “We each go through a spell of bad health a few times a year. It’s his turn this time.”

A buzzing came from Julia’s purse. “Excuse me,” she said as she reached into her bag and drew out her cell phone.

Julia paged through to the text message and began reading the short and to-the-point note.

Have a safe flight and a great weekend,

Jo

Julia loved her secretary, an organized yin to her frenetic yang.

She thought of calling Nick to tell him of her plans, but figured he was in the midst of business and didn’t want to disturb him.

And so she settled back in her seat, pulled out a magazine, and indulged herself with a little me-time while waiting for takeoff.

DETECTIVE BOB SHANNON pulled into the driveway of Washington House in his black Mustang Cobra, his single indulgence in life. He didn’t play golf, didn’t fish, wasn’t much for cards, but he’d loved muscle cars since he was a kid, and with no wife to talk him out of it, he bought the ’99 used Shelby Cobra for $38,800, keeping its black finish factory new with a weekly buff and polish.

Dance, Brinehart, Randall, Arilio, and Sam turned in surprise as he got out of the car.

“Guys,” Shannon said with a nod as he walked toward them.

“Hey, Shannon,” Brinehart said, acting as if they were best friends.

Shannon ignored him, keeping his full attention on Dance.

“I thought you were at the station,” Dance said, “following up on the arrest of those kids from the Bronx who got caught jacking cars over on Wampus Lake Drive.”

“Yeah, well. I got a call.”

Everyone turned to watch as Nick stepped out of the passenger seat, staring back at everyone.

“You guys responded, too, huh?” Shannon continued.

Dance just stared at him.

“The robbery…?” Shannon said, pointing out the reason for his visit.

“Yeah,” Brinehart blurted out, to the consternation of Dance.

“This guy,” Shannon thumbed his finger back at Nick as he cast his eyes on the young Brinehart. “He called you, too?”

Brinehart knew better than to make the same mistake twice.

“… Because the robbery wasn’t mentioned over the radio.”

The air grew thick. All eyes focused on Dance, who just stood there without a hint of emotion on his face.

“I want to know what the hell is going on,” Shannon said, an edge growing in his voice, the tendons in his neck distending as he fought to hold back his anger.

“Who’s this guy?” Brinehart said, alluding to Nick.

“Never mind that,” Shannon snapped at Brinehart as his eyes bored into Dance. “Answer my question, Ethan, what are you doing here?”

Dance looked at Brinehart and Randall, who remained calm, while Sam adjusted his sunglasses, taking a step back against the building, trying to disappear.

“Who are you?” Shannon said, glaring at Sam.

“I’m-” Sam stuttered, his hands shaking.

Brinehart walked around Nick, standing directly behind him. “And who are you?”

Brinehart’s arm shot out, snatching the pistol from the back of Nick’s waistband. “What the hell is this? You a cop?”

Shannon looked at the gun and back to Nick. “You didn’t tell me you were armed.”

“Considering the day I’ve had,” Nick said, “I thought it was a good idea.”

“Dance,” Shannon turned back to his partner. “This guy said you’re here to steal, let me see if I remember this: four gold swords, two rapiers, three sabers, five daggers, three guns, a bag of diamonds, and,” he paused, “some kind of box.”

Everyone remained silent.