Closure (Jack Randall) (38 page)

“If you catch him, take him to the hospital first and call me. The jail can wait.”

Jack looked him in the eye.

“Done.”

The state of Oklahoma holds 22,821 inmates in its prisons.
Approximately 15,290 are repeat offenders.

—THIRTY-SIX—

A
fter slipping out of Memphis, Sam had made it as far as Columbus, Indiana, before the need for sleep had finally won. Choosing a small motel outside of town, he paid cash for the room. On entering it, he wasn’t surprised; he had gotten what he paid for. It did however fit his current look. Sam was in need of a shave and a shower, but all he’d seen was the bed.

His need for sleep had overridden his internal alarm clock, and he somehow slept till 10 a.m. The activity of the maids outside his door had awakened him, and after determining there was no threat, he rose and stretched before walking to the shower. After a wait for the hot water, he treated himself to a long soak before exiting and shaving. Reassembling his shaving kit, he tossed it on the bed next to the suitcase before finding the remote for the TV. A quick search through the channels rewarded him with CNN. He thumbed the volume up while he returned to the sink to brush his teeth.

Unfortunately, his stomach was not cooperating, and the taste of toothpaste set off his gag reflex. As he retched and spit and fought the urge to vomit, his gut sent a sudden wave of pain that brought him to the floor. He curled into the fetal position and gritted his teeth as he waited for it to pass. After a few agonizing minutes, it finally did, and Sam, covered in sweat, lay panting on the floor.

Hearing his name on television brought his mind back to the room. He turned and crawled until he could see the reporter on the screen outside his brother-in-law’s house. Several police were in the background going in and out, most carrying a box of something. He watched and listened in horror as the reporter described the raid and capture of Paul. The story cut away to some footage of Jack walking through a bevy of reporters as he entered the local police headquarters. He waved them away and made no statements. The reporter reappeared on the screen and summarized everything she had just said, before sending it back to the newsroom for the next story. Sam grabbed the remote and changed the channels till he found FOX. After a small wait, he was treated to the same story. Paul was in custody. The FBI believed him to be an accessory to the sniper killings over the last few weeks. A warrant had been issued for Sam, and his picture appeared on the screen. It was a cutout of last year’s Christmas card, and the whole thing was shown next. The sight of his wife and daughter on the television brought back a wave of memories and Sam watched in dread as the story of their death was once again news, this time on a national level.

As the story turned to sports, Sam snapped out of the fog he was in. His identity was now public, and he was stuck with whatever he had with him to get by. He did some quick thinking before getting to his feet. The young man who had checked him in last night had been more interested in his movie than what Sam had looked like. Sam was sure he was home in bed by now. He had some time. Rummaging around in the bag, he located the box. The instructions were on the paper inside, and he read them before looking at the clock. He had just enough time before check-out if he hurried.

•      •      •

Danny sat impatiently in the terminal bar watching CNN on the overhead screen. He was forced to read the captions at the bottom due to the volume of noise. Once the story was over, he flipped open his laptop and clicked his way online. He was reading the third version of the story when his phone rang. He looked at the screen before answering it.

“Hey, Ed.”

“Where you at?” the editor demanded.

“I’m in the terminal in Memphis waiting for my flight home.”

“Screw that. I need you in Kalamazoo yesterday. Have you seen the story?”

“Just caught it on the TV. I’ll change my ticket to Kalamazoo if you want, but I think it would be better to head for DC. Don’t you?”

“Think they’ll move him that fast?”

“It’s his brother-in-law they need to catch, and it looks like he’s still out there. The whole thing will move to DC. You see them loading up all those boxes? They’ll all be in the Hoover Building by end of the day, with a hundred people going over them. Jack will be, too.”

There was silence as Ed thought it over. Danny sipped his bloody Mary while he waited.

“All right, I’ll send Karen to Kalamazoo just in case. You get to DC and get ahead of this thing. You still have your source?” Ed asked.

“You know better than that Ed. We get any letters?”

“You got one today, same as the others. The feds have it.”

“Then I’d say both my sources are still with me.”

“Okay, okay, I had to ask. Get moving.”

“On my way.”

Danny finished his drink before getting back on the internet and looking up flights. He booked himself on the next one to Dulles. He had another hour to wait, so he flagged down the bartender. It was still kind of early, but screw it.

“Another one.” He pointed at his empty glass.

•      •      •

“Nothing?” Jack asked.

“And I do mean nothing. Other than to ask for a drink and to go to the bathroom, the man hasn’t said a word. We worked on him for a few hours. He just nodded when we told him what the charges were, a very cool customer.” There was a sense of admiration in the agent’s voice. “It’ll take some time, but eventually he’ll talk.”

“Don’t bet on it. His brother-in-law was a SERE school instructor. Survival-Evasion-Resistance and Escape. I’m sure he gave him some lessons. We can’t make life tough as if he was a POW, and he knows it. It’s gonna be awhile before he talks, even to his lawyer.”

“Funny thing, he hasn’t asked for one. Some rookie from the local office will walk him through the arraignment, but that doesn’t take a lot of conversation, you know?”

Jack watched Paul through the glass. He was sitting calmly as if he was waiting for something and had all day to do it. He knew exactly what he was doing. Jack had no doubts about that.

“Yeah, I know,” Jack said before turning and leaving.

•      •      •

Sam parted his hair for the third time and finally decided to keep it on the left. He was happy with his results. The woman in Canada had suggested a certain shade, and Sam had bought it as soon as he had returned home. The stench was hard on his stomach, but he had managed to get the job done.

“You look good as a blond,” he told himself in the mirror. He moved his head from side to side. It looked natural, not fake as he had feared. He cleaned up the mess, and bagged it all up to take with him. If the police discovered that he had stayed here, he didn’t want them to know what his hair color was now. He was going to have to take the towels, too, but he was sure the little motel was used to that. He wiped every surface of the bathroom, and then applied a fresh coat of Super Glue to his fingers while he waited for his hair to dry. Once that was accomplished, he checked to make sure the Yellow Pages ad was in his pocket before leaving the room.

A few miles of travel brought him to another used car lot, this one also chosen for its selection of used vans. He casually exited the car and walked the row of vans, waiting to be noticed. The lot was empty except for him. Slow day.

An older man exited the trailer and walked toward him with a limp. Once in range, he shouted a greeting.

“Hello,” Sam answered with a smile.

“Need a van, do you?”

“Yup. Just something simple.”

“Well they’re all pretty much the same, former fleet of plumbing trucks. Miles are within a couple hundred or so of each other and nothing in the back. You want gas or diesel?”

“Gas if I can have it,” Sam answered.

“Those two on the end.” He pointed. Sam saw the man’s nose twitch.

They strolled the length of the row and the man rattled off some more information on the vans. Sam adjusted his pace to his. The two vans were gray in color with some lighter areas where the company name had been, plain and simple work vans. Sam peered in the windows as the man sized him up. Sam caught him looking in the mirror and suspected the price was being calculated by Sam’s apparel. The man’s nose twitched again.

“They all run fine, but I’d take the one on the end. Less miles, and it has a better radio. Used by the owner, I think.”

Sam turned his attention to the last van for a moment before turning back to face the elderly salesman.

“What are you asking?” he inquired.

The man gave Sam a thorough going over before voicing his reply. “For you, I think I can just make it a donation.”

“Excuse me?”

“Relax, young man. I’m no danger to you.”

Sam’s heart froze. The man had recognized him! The first person he had seen! Yet he was smiling.

“My wife used to dye her hair all the time. The smell always drove me down to the bar,” he explained.

Sam finally smiled back. “You’re sure? I don’t want to make any trouble for you.”

The old man just shook his head and smiled. “Been a fan since day one.” He patted his bad leg. “Used to own a store once. Some kid tried robbing me. I stuck one through his arm with my Smith and Wesson, but he winged me in the leg here. They let him out, and I’m still limping.” He turned and started walking back to the trailer. Sam once again kept pace. “Lemme just get the keys. You can pull that rental you’re driving around back and park it. Nobody looks back there. I’ll report the van stolen in a week or so. That give you enough time?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Might want to stay off the main roads, but I’m sure you know that. You need some spending money?” he asked as he entered the trailer

“No, sir, I’ve got plenty. I insist on paying for the van, too.”

“Don’t matter to me, son, isn’t mine anyway!” The man answered with a short laugh. He watched as Sam peeled several bills off the roll in his pocket and thrust them out.

“Really, son, just take it.” The old man shook his head.

“You’re gonna get a visit from the cops eventually, for your time and trouble,” Sam answered. “I won’t need it much longer anyway.”

The old man refused to touch it, so Sam dropped the money on the counter and picked up the keys.

“I can’t thank you enough.”

“Just keep doing what you’re doing.”

“Yes, sir.”

Sam moved the rental car before climbing in the van. It started on the first crank. Oil pressure was fine and it had 3/4 of a tank on the gas gauge. Sam dropped it in gear and pulled out of the lot. He got a friendly wave from the man in the window.

“A friendly civilian, how about that shit?” he asked himself.

•      •      •

Two hours later, Sam was approaching Indianapolis. He had made a stop at a sporting goods store, and the van now held an air mattress and sleeping bag, along with a few comfort items. Another stop at a grocery store provided enough food and drinks to last him a few days. Sam had decided that the hair was only going to do so much, so he added a pair of glasses. He would stay out of the public eye as much as possible. It was a long way to the next storage unit. He had thrown away all the items from the motel, but had kept the phone. Why, he wasn’t sure, but he caught himself eyeballing it on the seat next to him every once in a while.

As he rounded I-465 around the city, he listened to the news stations he had preset into the radio. So far the story hadn’t changed. He took the exit ramp onto interstate 70 and headed east, away from Kalamazoo.

The state of Oregon holds 12,715 inmates in its prisons.
Approximately 8,519 are repeat offenders.

—THIRTY-SEVEN—

A
nthony Tasone eyeballed the wheelchair waiting for him in the corner. Ignoring it was no longer an option, but he returned to the task at hand and put his back to the chair anyway. He automatically checked the windows to make sure they were shut with the curtains pulled. His skin had lost its olive tint and become paler as a result of his spending less time in the sun.

He assembled the sandwich with great care, adding the ingredients in carefully measured amounts. The meats stacked just so, the cheese sliced to his personal preference. This may be his last made-to-order meal, and he wanted it to be perfect. There was no telling how long it would be till his next one. On the chance he came through this unscathed once again, he knew just which of his restaurants he would be at tonight. Another good meal would be had, followed by a long vacation, somewhere outside the United States.