Rick Mofina - Every Second

“Not much is coming out of there,” Reeka said. “We have to know if that is where this story ends.”

As Strobic drove faster, Kate stared into the forests.

Are we following the Fultons’ final trail? Will we find corpses in that car at Deer Kill River?

After leaving the paved highway, Strobic’s Silverado raced along a twisting gravel road.

He braked hard when they came to some two dozen media and police vehicles lining each shoulder. A group of people stood near a large rock formation where Kate saw a flash of plastic yellow tape that appeared to seal the mouth of a forest back road. New York state troopers and county patrol officers protected the way to the scene where the car was found.

Kate and Strobic trotted to the gathering, passing emergency vehicles, news vans and cars from Albany, Newark, Patterson and New York City. Two helicopters thudded overhead and dogs yipped from inside the forest.

TV cameras and newspeople encircled a man who was gesturing as he spoke. He was not in uniform and didn’t look like a cop to Kate. She approached the group, standing next to a woman who was taking notes while recording.

“Kate Page, Newslead.”

“Alicia Walker, Newark Star-Ledger . I read your stuff. It’s good.”

“Thanks. Who’s this guy?”

“Bruce Grover-he found the car. You won’t get into the scene and they’re not saying much. They’re waiting for the FBI to take control here.”

Kate listened as Grover repeated his story for the benefit of other reporters as they continued arriving.

“…a white SUV, it forced me off the road. Then, on my way along the trail-” Grover pointed to the woods “-I found the car… No, there was no sign of anyone inside, or near it and no sign of any money.”

Strobic nudged Kate after taking several frames of Grover.

“There’s no picture here. I have to get an aerial. I’m heading out with a TV crew-they chartered a plane at a small strip. I won’t be long. I’ll pick you up here afterward.”

Kate nodded as she got an alert on her phone and saw a story just posted by the New York Post with photos of the abandoned Impala taken by Grover, who, it turned out, was a former editor with the paper. No indication of a body, or money, or bombs found. When she looked up from her phone, Strobic was gone, but she glimpsed a car arriving in the distance.

She recognized Tilden and Varner stepping out of it and made her way over to them, careful to walk on the other side of parked vehicles so other reporters wouldn’t see her.

She caught up to them before they headed to the scene.

“Agent Varner, Detective Tilden, wait! Please, just give me a second.”

They stopped, though neither looked happy to see her.

“Can you tell me what you have here?”

“You tell us, Kate,” Tilden said. “You were here first.”

“Come on.”

“You know what we know,” Tilden said.

“Is there anything more than a car in there?”

“Maybe deer, rabbits,” Tilden teased, sticking out his bottom lip. “A bear or two.”

“Really, Marv? You want to play it like this?” Kate turned to Varner. “What’s the connection between Lori and your suspect, Blaine?”

“That’s still under investigation,” Varner said.

“They knew each other in California, didn’t they?”

“That’s under investigation,” Varner repeated.

“Well, I can’t guarantee I’m going to hold off reporting on your investigation. Seems like there’s a lot going on here, and if you can’t help me out…”

“We got work to do.” Tilden walked away.

“Dammit, Varner, give me something I can use. I’ve been keeping up my end of the deal. I think you owe me something.”

He spun around and gave her a long, hard look that softened, acknowledging that she was right. “I’ll tell you one thing, and it’s not for attribution. You got that?”

“Got it.”

“You’re further ahead on this case than any other press people. Our problem is we don’t want you tipping off the suspects to details that would help them.”

“I get that, so what can you tell me?”

“We believe that the motive in this case is more than a financial one, that it’s connected to crimes in the past and possibly other conspiracies.”

“What other conspiracies?”

“That’s all you’re getting.”

“Okay, thanks.” Kate wrote it down.

Somewhere in New York State

Lori Fulton stared hard through the cabin window and into the forest, refusing to look any longer at the computer screen Thorne held in front of her.

She looked at the treetops swaying in the late-day breezes until something inside her cracked.

She groped for answers, begging to be wrong about what she now knew to be true. What was happening to her family went beyond a robbery, beyond a hostage-taking.

Thorne pulled the computer away and returned to the table.

Lori’s mind swirled at his indictment.

You were chosen because of your crimes as nonbelievers!

With trepidation she turned toward the far corner and the tripod with the camera. It was then, for the first time, that she noticed the large knife leaning against the wall… waiting .

Let me show you what happens to nonbelievers!

She shut her eyes and prayed, then heard the subdued jingle of a chain as Billy stirred, groggily positioning himself with his head in her lap. Lori caressed his hair, hoping he wouldn’t feel her shaking fingers or her body trembling under him as her mind raced with a million fears, rocketing her back to her time in California, back to that night in Santa Ana…

… coming off a long night shift of piddling pain-in-the-ass calls, a suspicious vehicle, loud music, barking dog, homeless guy sleeping in a homeowner’s flower garden… Tim’s supremely happy…he and Charlene are trying for their first baby. They pull into a twenty-four-hour store for one last coffee to end the tour…says he’s dreaming of daddyhood…shifting the car into Park…joking about names-Brad for a boy, Angelina if it’s a girl…he steps out of the car away from the door, then he sees him…the guy’s backing out of the store, sparks blazing from the handgun he’s firing at people inside… Tim goes for his weapon…in a heartbeat… Lori’s coming around the car behind Tim and sees it all…in a heartbeat…the world slows…every second thudding in her ears…in a heartbeat…the shooter wheels, fires above the vest…a gout of blood blasts from Tim’s jaw, a clump of flesh rips from his neck…another round tears into his shoulder, knocking him back into her…sending them both to the ground…in a heartbeat…a deafening roar swells inside her…she catches Tim, her partner, a future dad…thinking…training…acting…she’s reaching for her weapon…in a heartbeat…the shooter’s firing again and she feels every round pounding into Tim…his body’s shielding her…in a heartbeat…gripping her weapon…raising it… Tim’s spasming torso absorbing rounds…and she’s firing…the shooter’s angry eyes fill with surprise…she empties her magazine into his chest, putting him down…in a heartbeat… Tim’s blood warming her… Brad for a boy, Angelina if it’s a girl…shouting…screaming…sirens…blood drenching her as Tim empties of life…she’s holding him…like she’s holding Billy now…

Lori opened her eyes, looking back at the trees.

In the time after they’d buried Tim, she’d helped the investigators and the district attorney, answering question after question. “You were where? Then what happened? What actions did Officer Rowland take? What actions did you take?” She’d gone to counseling, done all she could to hang on while inside she was descending into an abyss of pain, guilt, fear and rage.