Джордан Шор - The Search

Agent Smith looked at his notebook. Then, he sniffed once and raised his eyebrows in a casual manner and held up the notebook for Jack to see.

BLOOD - HANDS - WASH - LAKE

BLOOD - JACKET SLEEVE

JACKET IS THE EVIDENCE!

VOICES?

Jack stared at the notebook with wide eyes, and then, he shook his head. “That doesn’t prove anything. Either you’ve taken her words out of context, or you wrote that just to fool me. You’re trying to trick me into confessing a crime I didn’t commit.”

Jack suddenly rose to his feet and then pointed aggressively at Agent Smith.

“You’re right, Agent Smith. You’re not a good cop. You’re an incompetent one.” Jack kept eye contact with Agent Smith. “And you’re a liar, Mister Smith, and I’m done talking to you.”

Jack walked up to Detective Sophia Houllier who stood by the door.

“Am I under arrest?” Jack asked gently.

Sophia Houllier looked at Agent Smith as though waiting for an answer to the question. Agent Smith nodded firmly at her.

“No,” Sophia said.

Agent Smith looked disappointed.

“The evidence is all circumstantial. It will never hold up in court,” Sophia said, and kept her eyes on Agent Smith.

Detective Sophia Houllier had the same hostile expression as when she previously stared at Agent Smith, but this time her eyeballs didn’t seem about to poop out of their sockets. Agent Smith’s eyeballs, however, did. He looked absolutely furious.

Detective Sophia Houllier looked at Jack. “But don’t leave town. You hear me?”

“No, I’m not going anywhere. I promise.”

“I’m sure they’ll find Kevin within a day or two. So, don’t leave town until we sort everything out,” Sophia said decisively. “And do not go to the airport, Jack.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Jack replied. “I don’t a dime in my pocket, and I’m done walking.”

“You need some money?”

Detective Sophia Houllier briefly glanced at Agent Smith, but he had his eyes focused on the tablet in his hands.

“For food, I mean,” Sophia added.

“I can eat at the hotel and charge it to my room. But thanks.”

Detective Sophia Houllier and Jack looked each other in the eyes, and they both had regretful and apologetic expressions. Eventually, Jack broke eye contact, smiled, and almost walked out the door.

“Jack!”

Agent Smith pushed the tablet across the table for Jack to see. Then, he pointed at the screen, which was filled with words on a white background. He looked Jack in the eyes.

“You can’t leave the state.”

Jack stared at the screen from a distance that made reading impossible.

“You’re going back prison,” Smith said. “I’ll see to it personally.”

Jack had the same look of resignation as previously, and for each step he took down the narrow hallway of the police station, he appeared a little more dejected. When Jack reached the end of the hallway and the door that separated reception from the rest of the building, he found Agent Coleman standing by the door.

Agent Coleman shook his head, but he didn’t say anything. Instead, he opened the door for Jack and politely waved him through in the same way a servant would open the door for a person of royalty.

“Don’t go to the airport. You hear me?” Coleman said.

“Why would I go to the airport? I don’t even have my passport.”

“You’re sure about that?”

“Why would I bring a passport?” Jack shrugged. “I mean, the plane was destined for Anchorage.”

At first, Coleman didn’t say anything else, but when Jack had almost reached the end of reception and was just about to walk out the entrance doors, Agent Coleman suddenly spoke in an absurd and high-pitched tone.

“ Pam-me-laaa !” Coleman sounded as he was imitating a ghost.

Jack turned around, and looked at Agent Coleman. “What did you say?”

“I didn’t hear anything,” Coleman said, and looked genuinely baffled. “Did you hear something, Jack?”

Jack turned around and almost walked out the door.

“Hey, Box!” Coleman yelled. “You’re not hearing any voices, are you?”

Jack stared intensely at Agent Coleman, then his head dropped and he came charging at Coleman; much as a bull locked in on its target. But Agent Coleman managed to shut the door fast enough. Jack’s collision with the door created a loud noise that echoed across the reception room. Then, he punched the door once with his fist before he turned around and walked out the entrance of the police station.

Tuesday morning

George Stanton had woken up with a bad feeling this morning. Just as he’d anticipated, he’d developed a sore throat during the night. Whenever he flew, he always had a tendency to develop a cold.

However, watching the morning news had brightened George’s mood. The media now reported that both pilots had perished in the crash. The authorities were convinced it had been a terrorist attack and that the frequently cited Imam had orchestrated the whole thing on his own.

George, however, thought differently.

When he’d heard the sound recording from the cockpit on the news this morning, he hadn’t heard the Imam storming the cockpit, or the desperate attempts of a crew member pleading with the Imam to open the door right before the plane crashed. On the contrary, once he heard the recording, George was even more convinced Captain Daniels had crashed the plane on purpose. The sounds of fighting halfway through the flight, weren’t from the Imam storming the cockpit, but rather the sounds of the co-pilot, Isaac Gregorian’s fight for survival. And the kicking and gagging sound was him choking to death from whatever poison Captain Daniels had slipped into his coffee.

The fighting just before the crash must have been the co-pilot’s unexpected awakening and his desperate attempt to stop Captain Daniels from crashing the plane into the nearby mountain. The sound of a crew member pleading with them to open the door was, however, accurate. Except, Elisabeth McAllister wasn’t trapped inside the cockpit with the Imam and trying to phone for help while she pretended to be dead. She was the one outside the cockpit banging on the door.

According to the ECC, Cayla Marsh, two passengers had apparently walked out of the woods and at least one of them had now been admitted to the local hospital in Yellowknife. George’s plan was to visit the passenger in the hospital, but he thought it was a good idea to contact the local police first and get their blessing before doing so.

Now, George was patiently waiting his turn in the reception area at the local police station when he overheard a conversation between two men. The larger man insisted that he hadn’t brought a passport because his flight was destined for Anchorage. The hair on George’s neck rose as he realized that the large man must be a survivor of flight 7-1-9. George kept his eyes on the large man as he passed by on his way toward the entrance doors, when suddenly, a strange voice called for someone named Pamela. He thought the cry was odd since no women were present in the reception area. George looked around the room, trying to locate the source of the strange voice.

Once more, George eavesdropped on the rather loud exchange between the two men. The large man’s first name was apparently Jack, and his last name appeared to be Bosch. Suddenly, the colossal man made an honest attempt to run through a door. To George’s astonishment, the door actually held.

The water bottle in George’s hand had now, suddenly, turned into some sort of defensive weapon. He wasn’t sure how to use this peculiar weapon, but his intuition told him to squeeze the bottle if necessary, and therefore render his assailant with the discomfort and shock of enduring wet clothes, and thereby leaving himself with enough time for a fast getaway. Needless to say, the water bottle was equipped with a sports cap.