Of That Day and Hour: A psychological thriller (3 page)

“He should have been. He
gave no indication that he thought he was being filmed.”

“What’s he saying to you
now?”

“He’s taunting me.”

“What about?”

“You.”

“Me?” This surprises Jeff.
“When did I join the party?”

“The moment he decided you
would. He was inside my head, my feelings.”

“Information gathering.”

“No, he knew too much. He
knew your name.”

“That’s impossible! What did
he say?”

“He told me the NSA, the
National Security Agency, would be arriving shortly. They did, and that they
already possessed the interviews. You had better listen to this.”

Jeff watches, intent on how
Casey interacts.

“Miss Perez, or shall I call
you Eve?” His hands come together. He reminds Jeff of a preacher relaxing into
his chair, with a wide smile that’s reserved for the most annoying of
parishioners.

“I’m, I’m sorry?”

“Forgive me, your name is
Eve, isn’t it?”

“How did you...?” Eve has to
compose herself. Casey relaxed comfortably in front of her, his face expressing
delight at her reaction. “We don’t work on first name terms, Mr. Jones.”

“That’s a shame, we could
have got along so much better. Where is Adam I wonder? In someone else’s arms,
you think, Miss Perez? You’re mistaken, he’s alone within the shadows of his
own mind.”

“I don’t know anyone called
Adam, Mr. Jones.”

“I know, I used the analogy
of Genesis. Jeff will be along shortly.” Eve stops the recording and sits back.
“After that interview he said he wouldn’t co-operate until you were here. He’s
waiting for you.”

Jeff contemplates why a
murderer would demand his presence.

“And when do I get to meet
our antagonist?”

“In the morning.”

The billboard
sits motionless and as dead as the surrounding desert that envelops Highway
Sixty Seven. The morning sunrise creeps across the landscape. Bar the odd stir
of wind, all is still. This silence is disturbed only by the jackrabbit or fox
foraging for shade, avoiding the marching heat and the ever present coyotes.
The slyness of the fox is superseded only by the greatest predator, one that
hides silently in the shadows of the board. Silver and black, this beast
possesses steel bull bars and is emblazoned with a gold star. The words
'Colorado State Patrol' are embedded along the side of the Dodge Charger. The
greatest weapon for this beast is stealth, to sit and patiently wait for the
prey that’s unaware of its presence.

A hawk soars, looking down
at the trooper who taps the end of the cigarette onto the packet, then places
it between his lips. With a click the lighter flicks open, the engraving on the
side revealing the police shield. The tobacco crackles as it burns. He inhales
deeply and permits the darkness to fully circulate before exhaling the silent
whisper of smoke. He feels only the desolation of the land, the loneliness, and
does not see the surrounding beauty of where he stands. The unmistakable growl
of a V8 engine captures his attention. He drops the cigarette and with his boot
grinds it into the dirt. The trooper steps out from the shadows. The black
Camaro is a fast approaching reflection in his mirrored sunglasses. As he
raises his arm to stop the vehicle, it passes with the volume of a race car in
full song.

“Shit.”

“What?”

“I think we just passed a
cop.”

Jeff twists round in his
seat and looks out of the rear window. The engine sounds louder, the speed
faster. All he can see is the diminishing billboard sign, blue sky, desert and
the lines of the highway.

“Do you see anything?”

Jeff can hear a tremor in
Eve’s voice.

“No.” Then he tries to
reassure her. “Are you sure it was a cop?”

“Yeah.”

The Dodge Charger fires on
all cylinders, three hundred and seventy horses bolt as the trooper straightens
the vehicle up on the highway for the pursuit. Eve’s no fool. She keeps her
foot hard on the gas, and her eyes firmly on the road, bar the odd glance
towards the rear view mirror. Jeff spots distant red, blue and white lights
flashing in the distance.

“Fuck.”

“What?”

“Cops.”

“I knew it.” Eve outwardly
sighs as the bone-shaking music of the engine slows and the overture is over.
She eases off on the gas and pulls to the side of the highway. The car settles
into a fresh cloud of dust; Eve kills the engine. She only has a few
adrenalin-soaked seconds to compose a convincing cover story.

“Don’t worry, you’ll be
okay.”

“Shh, I’m thinking.” Jeff
feels cut from the moment, but quickly realizes it’s Eve’s license and not his
on the line. “Okay, play it cool and follow my lead.”

In the rear view mirror, she
can see the cop draw up behind them with lights flashing. If Jeff wasn’t beside
her, the top buttons of her blouse would now be undone.

The lone trooper ensures his
on-board camera is rolling before he steps out, straightening his hat. He walks
towards the dusty Camaro with his right hand over his semi-automatic pistol,
cautiously approaching the driver’s window. Eve removes her sun glasses for eye
contact, and places her hands on the steering wheel. Her mouth is dry and she
can feel her own heartbeat.

“Good morning officer.”

The trooper is desensitized
to her smile and look of hope. As far as he’s concerned, she’s just another
bitch who just broke the law.

“Driving license and
registration.”

Only on his command does she
remove her hands from the steering wheel and reach for her bag. A dangerous
moment, with the cop ready for a quick draw. Eve pulls out and hands over her
documents, with a smile that’s ignored.

“We’ve had a spate of
trafficking recently.” For emphasis the trooper glances to the back seats of
the car, before looking back to Eve. “Is there any contraband in this vehicle?”

A routine question. The
trooper is only concerned if people don’t appear genuinely shocked, or laugh at
the suggestion.

“Hell no.” Eve’s nervous at
this escalation in questioning. “Feel free to search the vehicle.”

“You were speeding back
there.”

“Yes sir.” A rush of guilt,
has Eve blushing as the words tumble out. “But it’s really a matter of great
urgency.”

“Why?”

“I’m Dr. Eve Brown, and this
is my colleague Dr. Jefferson Davies. We’re both psychiatrists at the prison,
and have just received an urgent phone call. One of the inmates has become
dangerously psychotic. The safety of the staff and our patient is paramount,
the minutes really do count.” Eve’s aware that her hand is shaking as she hands
over her official prison identification. Jeff holds his breath, looking up at
the cop to see if he believes Eve’s story. It only takes a moment before the
trooper hands the paperwork back to Eve.

“Follow me, Ma’am. I will
personally escort you to the complex.”

“Thank you, sir.”

The trooper walks back to
his vehicle. Once inside he removes his hat and places it on the passenger
seat, then fires her up. Pleased with herself, Eve turns to Jeff and gives him
a wink.

“You played that well.”

“Of course, what else would
you suggest a psychiatrist do?”

Jeff’s proud of Eve, and yet
feels wary of her manipulation: would she do that to him one day? Eve smiles to
herself as she turns the ignition key. The trooper slowly passes, indicating
that they should follow him. Within seconds the Camaro’s throaty voice is once
again rising to full song. Eve tries her best to keep up with the Dodge in
front.

“He’s fast.”

“Tell me something I don’t
know.” A coyote pricks up its ears at this unique roar out on the highway. This
cop gives Eve a run for her money, but she's hot on his tail, and it’s not long
before she sees his brake lights as they approach the prison. They turn left
towards the penitentiary entrance. The trooper turns his vehicle round: he’s no
place nor authority here. Eve waves and smiles as she passes, then continues to
drive up to the guard house.

“They say a society may be
judged by entering one of its prisons.”

“And this prison?”

“Society can’t be judged on
this one.”

Jeff feels intimidated as he
looks around at this fortress of brick and steel. Eve confidently navigates her
way through the security maze at the world’s most secure prison complex. Dubbed
the Alcatraz of the Rockies, towers manned by armed guards circle the complex,
whilst attack dogs patrol the twelve foot high outer perimeter razor wire
fences.

“Has anyone ever escaped
from here?” Jeff now looks to Eve for reassurance.

“No. These inmates are
classified as a significant security risk to the United States. We isolate them
in a sparse concrete cell for twenty three hours a day, and permit solitary
exercise for one hour within a larger cell. The prisoner has no idea where he
is, or even what time it is, and there’s no possibility of escape.”

“You advocate these
conditions?”

“They are not your students,
Jeff. These men are convicted terrorists and gangsters, motherfuckers so
dangerous, violent and disruptive that a mere maximum security prison is deemed
incapable of holding them. They alone have brought themselves here.”

“Still feels like
Auschwitz.”

“Keep that shit to yourself.
The system will not tolerate a sympathizer. The guards are respected, so show
respect, they’re used to it, and call them sir.”

“Call them sir?” Jeff isn’t
one to put himself on a pedestal, however he’s an educated man. “I’m no
inmate.”

“Just do it.” Eve smiles as
she parks the car. “For me.”

Entering the building is
reinforcement enough for Jeff to realize that fear is at the heart of the
prison, and not just for the inmates. The guards view him with suspicion as he
walks between sliding steel doors, scanners and detection equipment. He’s then
processed, photographed, electronically fingerprinted and is under no delusion
about his expected compliance. Here respect is issued through broken fingers,
limbs or skulls. Jeff and Eve are escorted throughout the complex, where you
can taste the testosterone in the air.

“This is our office.”

They walk into a small room
with white walls, desks, filing cabinets, computers and recording equipment.
With interest Jeff looks around.

“It’s smaller than I
expected.”

“It’s big enough for an observation
room. Through there is where the real action takes place.”

“The interview room?”

“Yeah, and we’re just in
time, you’re on in a minute.”

“You’re coming in with me
though, aren’t you?”

“He requested your presence
only, so you'll have to enter the room alone. You’re physically safe, and the
only fear you will have to face is your own.”

“Thanks for that cheery
note.” For the first time Jeff has real fear, flowing through his veins.

“You’ll be fine, don’t be
such a pussy.”

“I’m not.”

 
He stands looking at the grey steel sliding
door in front of him. It will lead him into the interview room, and his first
meeting with Mr. Casey Lee Jones.

“Are you ready?” Eve keeps
her manner matter of fact, casual, so as not to alarm Jeff.

“As I’ll ever be.”

“Don’t worry, you’ll come
out alive.”

Jeff steps forward. He can
feel the shake of adrenalin in his arms. Before imagination has chance to
betray him further, the mechanism behind the steel door pulls it open. He steps
forward, instinctively glancing towards the floor, a gesture that is taken as
submissive, and as a bow of respect for the predator sitting at his altar.
Casey relaxes with a glowing triumphant smile, as Jeff walks in and sits in the
opposing chair.

“I believe if we go on
protocol I have to call you Dr. Davies.”

“Mr. Jones, I am neither a
prison officer, nor do I work for the government, please call me....”

“Jeff, yes I know.”

“How do you know?”

“That would be telling,
wouldn’t it?”

Jeff smiles; he knows
Casey’s is trying his hand at manipulation. However diverting, the question is
simply evasion; he’ll soon show Eve what Casey really is.

“May I call you Casey?”

“First name terms, how very
intimate. You are of course breaking protocol.”

“I like to live
dangerously.”

 
“So I believe.” Casey smiles. He has to break
Jeff, gently. “I would of course shake you by the hand, however it appears fate
has been rather thoughtless.”

“Would you like to discuss
why you’re here?”

“How very direct, I expected
a little more rapport from you. But then again, it’s been a long time hasn’t
it?”

“Have we met before?”

“One might say we are
inexplicably linked.”

“How?”

“Later. You of course know
my defense.”

“Yes.” Jeff takes note of
this pattern of evasion.

“Your only logical
conclusion is that I must be a sociopath, one who believes in his own delusions
and lies, and that I will now try to coerce you into believing them.”

“You put words into my
mouth.”

“I don’t have to.” Casey
raises his hands and interlocks them, a subtle gesture, the two becoming one.
“You do know that she still loves you?”

“I’m sorry?”

“Eve’s the reason that
you’re here, why you have restless nights and your dreams become your
nightmares. Do you honestly believe that you can’t live without her?"

For a moment Jeff’s thrown.
However, it’s quite a reasonable deduction for anyone to suggest that a man
loves a beautiful woman. Casey looks up and smiles to the camera. Eve whispers
to herself. “You bastard.” as she continues to watch the events unfold
onscreen.

“What happened to you that
night?”

“Oh please, a tad more
foreplay, Jeff. Do you go straight for the act with Eve?”

“If you’re going to play
games with me then I’m sorry, I’m leaving.”

Jeff stands to his feet. In
the observation room Eve knows Jeff is bluffing. Casey raises his hand, then
lowers it for Jeff to sit back down. Eve smiles.

“It was a cold night, but
then I knew it would be. They'd forecast freak weather conditions, blizzards. I
wouldn’t have risked driving that night, but her line was down. My mother, you
see, is proud, independent and old. I’m all she had.”

“I’m listening.” Jeff’s
pleased. He’s won the upper hand, and now dominates the interview. “Please
continue.”