The Citation 500 cruised at thirty three thousand feet and barely a ripple coursed through the aluminum skin as the jet made its way back to Virginia. Jaxon sat, tense, as the smooth air cradled Victoria in her seat and she snored from the effects of the pain killers she had been given back in Indiana. He stared at her, unable to sleep himself, the events of the night too fresh in his mind.
Vick’s hair was fanned out over her arm and the dark strands stood out starkly against her pale skin. He remembered a vision from his marriage with her sleeping just as she was, a wispy smile on her lips, hair spread out around her and her bare skin glowing in the soft candle light. It had been one of those rare evenings when Michael was out of the house at his grandparents and they had an evening to themselves. He had drunk too much and she took advantage of him. Not that he had complained or anything. He had watched her sleep afterwards and felt his life could not get any better. He had been right. It had gotten worse. A lot worse.
He turned and looked out the small window into the night and thought of his dead son. Malcom Switzer had professed his innocence to Jaxon over and over again. Pleaded with him as he pointed the gun at the killer’s head, two of his buddies trying to keep Jaxon from shooting Switzer the night they took him down. It hadn’t mattered to Jaxon. He didn’t hear him. Wouldn’t hear him. He pulled the trigger just the same and as his friends and workmates wrestled Jaxon to the ground, only one of the bullets found its mark. In Switzer’s thigh. He had screamed like a woman and it had made Jaxon smile.
Now, he had to wrap his mind around the reality that Malcom Switzer had been right. Or at least it appeared he was right. The two frozen ears were on this very plane, along with the various animal parts, kept in the hold, under ice, awaiting the FBI’s forensic lab to analyze them and determine who they belonged to. Jaxon didn’t need the FBI to tell him that. He knew they belonged to Michael.
His anger and guilt had been aimed at the wrong man for so many years and apparently his aim was as bad as the night he shot Switzer. Switzer was a cold and brutal killer, Jaxon knew, but he wasn’t Michael’s cold and brutal killer. This new man…no…man wasn’t a word he could put next to him…this new beast was killing kids and stalking Jaxon’s mind. He had to be stopped. There would be none of Jaxon’s ‘friends’ around this time. No one to influence his aim. He would make sure of that. This asshole was going to die a slow and painful death in front of Jaxon’s eyes and nobody would be able to help him.
“What are you thinking?” Victoria’s voice startled him out of his thoughts.
He turned toward her. “Just imagining this guy dying slowly in front of me as I wrap my fingers around his neck and squeeze.”
She searched his face and yet he couldn’t read her reaction one way or the other. She sighed and finally said, “I’ll hold him down.”
Chapter 33
The funeral for Sally was three days later. Jaxon, Victoria, Holt, and the chief were up front along with the entire force. Some of the FBI guys on the case were in attendance too. The news crews had shown up and there had been an uncomfortable compromise reached after a few of the cops made their feelings known concerning the appearance of the local reporters. The crews elected to keep their distance until the proceedings were over.
Victoria’s face looked better, but she still had a small bandage just above her left eye. A sickly, yellow, brown color could be seen peeking out from underneath it. Jaxon’s back was still sore but he was able to function. He had even been a pall bearer.
As the priest intoned his words over the audience, Sally’s father sat stoically next to her mother who leaked tears the entire time. Though she was crying, she remained eerily silent. Her father periodically looked up at Jaxon. The man seemed to be questioning him with his eyes or maybe it was just his imagination. Jaxon didn’t blame the man. Hell, he was questioning himself ever since the explosion.
Jaxon’s phone vibrated in his pocket and he chose to ignore it. The whole force was here and if they needed him, someone would tell him. Jaxon’s eyes wandered the grounds. He couldn’t seem to bring himself to look at Sally’s casket. Every time his eyes passed over the flag draped aluminum box, he would jerk them away as if he were staring into the sun. He knew there was probably some psychological term or condition for what he was doing, but he didn’t care about that now. He just wanted to be away from here. And soon.
A few groundskeepers were busy tending the flowers and hedges in the distance and he could hear the purr of a leaf blower bleeding through the priest’s voice. A few coughs into fists and quiet snifflings made their way to his ears as he scanned the headstones and flowers.
Something caught his eye. Just a brief flash of black in the distance. He wasn’t even sure if he actually saw something, but his subconscious held his eyes on the spot. From behind a tree an arm clad in black appeared followed by the torso of a person. The face remained obscured behind the tree. His cell phone began vibrating again and for some reason the urgency in the vibration seemed more pronounced than the last call. He was imagining this, he knew, but the urge to pull it out of his pocket was overwhelming. The black flash disappeared behind the tree again. The phone buzzed and buzzed in his pocket.
The priest was rambling on about life after death, and the leaf blower was growing louder, but the buzzing in his pocket stopped. At least for a moment. The phone began vibrating again and Jaxon’s eyes were drawn to the tree. The black clad arm was in view again only it was raised to a head as if someone was holding a cell phone to their ear. Jaxon started, and then frantically reached into his pocket for his phone. Victoria turned to him and the chief cleared his throat as Jaxon struggled to gain access to the buzzing gadget trapped in his pants. People were starting to look at him as he finally freed the phone and brought it to his face. The caller I.D. display sent a jolt through his body. He showed it to Victoria who took a quick breath. It was all zeroes.
He looked up finding the tree again and watched as the flash of black stepped back behind it. Jaxon pointed to the tree and then turned around and began gesturing to the uniformed men around him. Victoria turned to the chief and whispered something in his ear and Jaxon watched the man scowl. Jaxon moved quickly to the edge of the crowd, Victoria and Holt on his heels, and murmurs began traveling through the crowd as Jaxon’s actions disrupted the proceedings. The phone continued to vibrate in his hand while Jaxon kept an eye on the distant tree. It was difficult to make anything out as the people attending the service kept getting between him and his view of the tree. He answered the phone on the move.
“Jaxon.”
“Hello, Detective,” the electronically altered voice drew out his title just like before, the mocking tone finding its way through the eerily irritating voice. Jaxon cringed but his anger boiled through.
“What the fuck do you want?” Jaxon tried gesturing toward the distant tree but Victoria wasn’t quite getting it. He put his hand over the phone and whispered, “He’s behind that tree over there. Get some men to it.” She nodded and moved away.
“Now, now, Detective, no reason to be so angry. I’d thought you’d be a little more appreciative of me by now. I did give you a gift.”
“You’re going down.”
“Probably-eventually. But not before we have our little fun. I’m not finished yet.”
Jaxon could see cops fitted in their dress blues making their way out of the crowd. Many were already drawing their weapons. A murmur was building in the crowd as people began to realize something was happening.
“What do you want?” Jaxon asked.
“We’ve been through this Detective. I thought I made myself clear the last time we had this discussion.”
“Enlighten me.” Victoria was directing the action and as she moved men into position, Jaxon saw the flash of black appear again from behind the tree. He pointed and she finally saw.
“I want to help. We’re helping each other.”
“Why don’t I make it easy for you,” Jaxon said. “I’m here waiting. Come help me.”
The laugh that came through the speakers made Jaxon pull the phone away from his ear. The metallic quality of the voice vibrated nerves in his head he didn’t know existed. Jaxon watched as the police officers approached the
